They Also Serve
by elecktrum
Summary: A companion piece to my story 'Into the West' from Edmund's point of view. As Peter journeys westwards on his quest, Edmund must endure both Jadis' curse and the pain of being left behind.
1. Who Stand and Wait

This story is a companion to and parallels my last story, "Into the West," as told from Edmund's point of view. It probably won't make a whole lot of sense without reading "Into the West" first since this starts up the day Peter departs Cair Paravel and Edmund is already laboring under Jadis' curse. All thanks should go to Almyra for inspiring me. To quote her exactly: _Loved Peter's reunion with Susan and Lucy (and hugging Oreius!) and Edmund's dislike of mornings (my kind of king). And this is just a very small request, but sometime, could we see the reunion between Edmund and Phillip? I'd love that..._

It started small then took on a life of its own, just like most everything I write. Enjoy.

**...Who Stand and Wait**

From atop Phillip's back Peter smiled down upon us, his face shining in the light of a thousand torches. Even in the plainest of clothes he was magnificent and every inch the High King of Narnia. I felt a rush of pride and love that this was my brother. I could tell he was eager to be off, eager to start this quest to save me, already aching to be home.

I knew exactly how he felt, because I felt the same way.

"I love you all very, very much," he said softly. "Stay out of trouble while I'm away."

I snorted at this typically Peterly advice, unable to let him leave without _some_ display of temper, demanding, "And what are we supposed to do until you get back?" Staying out of trouble had been physically impossible for me since the day I had turned four and he knew it.

"Plan a navy," Peter answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I opened my mouth to reply but I couldn't come up with anything witty to say in return. Planning out a branch of the military was not what I had expected to be doing while waiting for him to return, but it was a good idea. He cast me a smile, pleased with himself for rendering me speechless, and I couldn't help but smile back. Navy? He'd come home to a bloody armada if I had my way. I felt Susan and Lucy standing close beside me and we watched as Peter turned Phillip and rode down the long avenue of torches and soldiers and loving subjects singing a hymn of creation. Oreius and Celer swept by us as they followed him and Aslan let out a mighty roar that had so much force behind it the sound seemed to penetrate and pass through my body. I watched until Peter's blond head was out of sight, tempted to run up to the highest tower in Cair Paravel to catch a last glimpse of him as he rode westward into Aslan only knew what kind of mess.

But I didn't. I felt Lucy's small hand curl into mine and I held on tightly, her presence grounding me. Susan laid her hand on my shoulder. We stood watching until the hymn was done, the last eerie notes echoing off the palace walls. Dawn was creeping over the horizon on this, the start of the first day without my brother. He hadn't been gone twenty minutes and I already missed him terribly. It wasn't so much that he wasn't here now, but that he wouldn't be here for weeks and maybe even months. I wasn't alone, not like he soon would be with only a Horse for company. I had the girls with me and Aslan and the whole of Narnia, but…I would be alone in our room at night. And only I would be reporting to Oreius and Celer every morning before sunrise. And I'd be alone with Cheroom during history lessons.

I would be sitting next to an empty throne, separated from my sisters by an expanse only Peter could fill.

Suddenly the silver crown on my head seemed to weigh a ton.

And Phillip, my closest friend in Narnia, was equally out of my grasp. Who could I really talk to now that my best friend and my brother had gone riding off? There was Aslan, of course. He understood always and everything, but ... it just wasn't the same. Not for me, anyway. I sighed, wishing I could stop the thoughts swirling through my head. What if one or both of them got hurt? What if it was too far? Or winter came? What if...what if I didn't make it? I was genuinely afraid of being left alone with my own thoughts.

They had better hurry back.

As if she could read my thoughts, Susan's hand tightened slightly on my shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The crowd was dispersing, voices rising in excited whispers as they spoke of the quest and histories and legends. Lucy looked as glum as I felt and I pulled her in close against me. I really wasn't one for displays of affection – that was Peter's role – but I could tell she needed to be held and so I kept my arm around her shoulders. We were standing in our little knot when one of the army's captains, a huge black Centaur named Kanell, came down the steps behind us.

"Majesties," he said in his deep, booming voice, bowing.

Lucy sniffed and stood up straight as we greeted him. Susan smiled her sweet, gentle, and reassuring smile. I wished it had the same effect on me it had on our subjects, because that smile seemed to make their troubles melt away.

"General Oreius and Captain Celer have requested that I take over your training until their return, King Edmund," Kanell said. I knew what this meant. Kanell was superb at fighting with two swords, something Oreius rarely let us try before we had mastered the use of just one. Perhaps this was a gift from the good general, knowing that I would be lonely without Peter and knowing I had been aching to use dual swords. Despite my anxiety at Peter's departure I couldn't help but be pleased. I smiled up at the captain, knowing I had at least a week of his instruction to look forward to.

"If you'll allow me to change, I'll meet you at the training grounds, Captain Kanell," I said.

"Half an hour, Sir Edmund," he ordered with a nod. He bowed to my sisters and I inclined my head to him, student now and not a king until I was released from my lesson.

"You'd better run," said Susan as the Centaur left.

"Take this, will you?" I handed her my crown, suddenly glad that Oreius hadn't given me a chance to stop and brood. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Don't get hurt!" Susan called after me as I ran for the barracks.

I shook my head. As if Kanell could do any worse than what had been done to me already.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

There were advantages and disadvantages in being the only student on the training ground. The advantages were I received the undivided attention of Kanell and a solid hour of instruction and training. The disadvantages were I received the undivided attention of Kanell and a solid hour of instruction and training. By the time I left the courtyard I could barely move, especially my left arm. Kanell was a good teacher, but I came to see he was used to training hardened warriors, not scrawny eleven-year olds. Without Peter to take up some of his time I think I overdid it for my first day. Still, I was learning to use two swords! Maybe I could finally beat Peter when he returned.

Sweaty and worn, I dragged myself back to Peter's bedroom. Our bedroom. My bedroom now. I had moved into here a year ago under the excuse that he couldn't sleep without me close by. While that was very true - he had managed to work himself into a frenzy of anxiety our first month here in Cair Paravel - what was equally true was that I needed him just as close to sleep well, I just hid it better. I don't know how the girls managed to adjust to their own bedrooms so easily. Perhaps Lucy snored and Susan was glad to be free of the noise.

I dropped down on Peter's bed to peel off my boots. Martil came in and helped me undress, because even though my mail and armor were down in the armory, I couldn't get out of the heavy, quilted clothes underneath without assistance. Peter and I had always helped each other. Even though they're fussy and natty, valets are wonderful inventions. If nothing else Martil spared me the task of picking out appropriate clothes every day, and right now he undid the straps down my back holding the shirt closed. Normally I'd go take a bath in my own rooms. I'm not sure why I came here. I stood to unbuckle Shafelm's belt and I laid the sword on the bed. Out of the heavy clothes, I realized how hot I had been when the cooler air touched my skin. I immediately sat down again, exhausted and relieved to be free of the weight.

I had no memory of falling asleep. I just woke up to the sight of Lucy sitting on the bed beside me reading a book. I was half-dressed and covered with a light blanket and I blinked stupidly at her.

"What time is it?" I groaned. She looked up from the book and I saw of flash of worry in her eyes that was quickly hidden behind her smile.

"Almost time for tea. You slept through dinner. How do you feel?"

I couldn't move I was so stiff. Every muscle I owned ached terribly. "Not too bad," I said vaguely. "Why didn't someone wake me up?"

"Because you're so tired," Lucy explained patiently. "Silvo told Cheroom. He said to let you sleep yourself out and we didn't really have anything pressing where royal duties were concerned. There were just some bears with a dispute over fishing rights in the Muskenon River. It was very petty and Susan made them feel so guilty they all apologized and promised to share."

"Blast," I muttered, sitting up. I slowly flexed my arm. It was remarkably sore. "I don't need to be baby sat."

"No," she agreed, setting the book aside, "but you do need more rest than you've been getting. A day without lessons won't hurt, Edmund."

_Try telling my shoulders that,_ I thought, rubbing at the stiffness in my neck.

"You're dealing with a lot," she went on.

"You're dealing with it too, Lucy."

"Maybe, but I'm not the one Jadis cursed. Now wake up. Tea is in an hour and you can't miss it. Sir Giles is going to introduce us to the vixen he's courting. You have just enough time to get ready."

An hour was just enough time? Who did she think I was, Susan? I could be ready in five minutes. Ten if Martil caught me before I reached the door and tried to do something with my hair.

"All right," I said, "I'm up, Lu. Now shove off so I can get dressed."

She laughed at the words which did not match my tone at all and I smiled faintly at her. She was the next best thing to Peter and she knew me well enough to know I was teasing her.

"And fix your hair!" she called from the doorway loudly enough for Martil to hear. That did it. Not one but two over-eager valets came to assist me and I feared that now I really would need that hour. I sighed, knowing I would be doing a lot of that in the future.

Peter had his role in this quest just as I had mine. His part was to act, mine was to endure. I understood now, truly understood, what he had meant when he said he had the easier role.

And, oh, how I missed him.


	2. Gone to the Dogs

**Gone to the Dogs**

I never really fell into any sort of comfortable routine after Peter left. Days passed and things never settled down as far as I was concerned. How could they? Even though life continued as normal for most of the inhabitants of Cair Paravel, I couldn't get used to my brother's absence, especially those first few moments of waking up every morning. I trained as always, I went to lessons and tutors, I sat on my throne and helped rule Narnia, and nothing ever seemed quite ... right. I went through the motions, but nothing seemed real to me save the sense of duty that kept me moving and functioning as student and monarch. At least, everything seemed less real without Peter.

Was I really so dependant upon my brother for my own security? The thought was disturbing to say the least. I don't remember being so needy in the past, but then I hadn't been much of a brother myself. I couldn't imagine what the future would bring if I didn't get over this clingy stage I seemed to be wallowing in. I honestly didn't think under normal circumstances my anxiety would have lingered so strongly. Even as far as Narnia was concerned, these circumstances weren't normal. I was functioning under a deathless spell that tried to kill me off on a nightly basis, Peter and Phillip had departed into the Western Wild to find the means of breaking the curse, and Aslan was here to help us and to keep me from losing my mind. Everyone had something to worry about including Peter, wherever he was.

Every night we lingered in one of our rooms, usually mine, waiting for midnight. It was extremely unnerving to know that each night I was going to be stabbed, horrible to pull off my tunic and sit and wait for the moment. I dreaded it as I have never dreaded anything before. In truth I would have much sooner ridden naked into battle. The feeling of _being_ stabbed was the worst, my body being violated and invaded by ice-cold crystal, but even worse was the sensation of the wand being yanked _out_ of me. That was when the real pain started. It was too centered, too painful for me to scream or cry. Jadis had been wantonly brutal, punching through mail and muscle and bone. Try as I might I could not erase her triumphant sneer from my mind. I know she would have been delighted to know how her curse was perpetuated and how desperately I wanted it to end. Strangely, knowing that her blood in me was what caused this gave me a feeling of being infected or tainted. I was constantly aware of her presence, just as I was constantly reminded of Peter's absence. Even Aslan's company, welcome and wonderful though it may be, just drove the message home that much harder.

I had no option but to carry on and I was grateful for my lack of choice. Peter had set the example for us all right after the anniversary celebration. We had gathered in our private sitting room and he had insisted that we needed to carry on as if nothing in the world had happened. He had made certain we understood the importance of appearances not only to Narnia, but to the rest of the world. It wasn't easy, but I think I had the advantage over all my siblings in controlling my expressions and reactions to things. Dealing with the bullies at my last school had taught me a great deal. I had never thought I'd be grateful to those barbarians, but their teasing and abuses had been an education and proving ground above and beyond the academics of school life and I had learned to hide my true feelings behind a calm facade. I hid behind that now, relaxing my guard only when I was alone with my sisters and Aslan, but never quite able to relax it completely as I did with Peter.

I wasn't alone in missing him. Silvo, his Faun valet, was constantly looking for something to clean and fussed over Peter's clothes endlessly. Occasionally I would sneak in and move things around on him and mix up the shoes and hide the belts or Peter's crown, just to keep him busy. Peter's war mount, the Unicorn Flisk, wandered through every building and hall of Cair Paravel, pestering everyone but Aslan for word on my brother. More than once I opened my bedroom door to the huge white Unicorn standing just outside and expecting me to have the answers he wanted to hear. It's no joke facing a Unicorn before breakfast, believe me. That Flisk was so concerned surprised me because as a general rule Unicorns are very stand-offish and, Lion forgive me, snobbish. I suppose in his own way Flisk was worried and expressing it the only way he knew how. I promised to let him know the moment we heard anything to get him to leave the stable attendants and gardeners alone.

And then there were the small Cats that served at Peter's pages. There were several dozen about the palace and they tended to hold themselves in reserve for his service before anyone else's. Without him there to keep them busy they shifted their attentions to me and Lucy and we were hard pressed to find enough people to send messages to in order to keep the Cats occupied and we kept up a steady stream of useless notes back and forth. It was particularly difficult for me because since the time I had gone to visit the Blue River Smithy, I had used the Bats almost exclusively to carry my messages and for all their manners, the Bats were as territorial with me as the palace cooks were with their pans. Luckily for all parties concerned my Dwarf friends were in almost constant contact and we started negotiating another visit for me in the spring. I kept the plans moving ahead despite the uncertainty of when Peter would return. I needed something to look forward to (though looking forward to weeks of hot, smelly, dirty work, tasteless food, and obnoxious Dwarfs was sad testimony to my present state) and I needed to keep the Bats and Cats from crossing messages and claws.

As it turned out, keeping everyone else busy and happy was very good medicine. The days passed quickly and I was surprised when over a week had gone by and I had somehow survived Kanell. It was about this time that I discovered the little gift Phillip had left behind for me in the form of a pack of Dogs.

An opportunity to go riding hadn't presented itself in a while, the weather being as uncooperative as our schedules, so on the first clear day where we had free time Susan, Lucy and I eagerly headed down to the stables. I took Jett, Peter's black mare, and the girls rode their palfreys. At first I kept pace with the much smaller horses. The weather was clear and warm, though there was a hint of autumn in the air and the Dryads were already plotting out their fall foliage. As usual whenever we went riding (or anywhere else, in fact) we were followed by attendants and guards and curious Animals. I didn't particularly notice the Dogs, but when I got tired of the pace the slower horses set, I let Jett have her head and she took off at a run. Susan shouted after me to be careful and I just waved to acknowledge that I'd heard (not that I would obey). I knew I'd be followed, most likely by Deer or Centaurs or big Cats. They were always careful to keep their distance and afford us monarchs some privacy, something we rarely enjoyed. I wanted to be free of Bats and Cats and Unicorns, if only for a few minutes. That day, however, I was pursued by half a dozen baying, barking, shouting Dogs who made no attempt to be subtle as they crashed through the woods after me.

I pulled Jett to a halt and looked around. I spotted a large buck, Valons by name, in the trees a few yards away. We looked at each other in confusion as the Dogs caught up.

"Is something wrong, cousins?" I asked, wondering if something had happened behind us with the main party.

The Dogs sat or lay down, panting and looking pleased with themselves.

"No, your majesty," they called.

"Why are you following me, then?"

"It's not you we're following, King Edmund."

I frowned and glanced at Valons again. He shook his head and I shrugged, turning the mare about and letting her take off again.

The Dogs set off in hot pursuit. I tried to ignore them, but it was impossible with the rackett they produced for no apparent reason. We came to a stream and I let Jett take a drink. The Dogs caught up again.

"Why are you following me?" I asked sharply.

"We're not following you, good king," said one grayhound.

"Then why are you here?" I demanded. A few stragglers caught up to us. "Answer me, Yoli!"

"We're not following _you_, sire."

"Then who?" I thought for a moment. "Jett? You're following _Jett_?"

They nodded, heads bobbing all around me. "Did my - "

I stopped. Peter would never do this to me, especially since he'd already left me to the mercies of an additional valet. I was grossly outnumbered in my own chambers back at the Cair and now...

"Phillip," I growled. I took a deep breath. "Did Phillip put you up to this?"

More idiotic nods. I sat atop Jett in open-mouthed fury at my absent, so-called friend.

"Marsk?" I shouted.

They nodded, clearly pleased to see I was catching on.

"What about all the other horses?" I asked, but I already knew the answer because they all bobbed their heads again.

"Well," said one saluki bitch, a lovely young thing called Merit, "Phillip didn't include your sisters' palfreys."

"WHAT? As if I would ever ride one of those!" I snapped. Palfreys weren't horses, they were glorified ponies. I was _not_ going to ask about the donkeys, either, because kind as they were, I'd sooner walk. "I command you stop following the horses when I ride."

Yoli whined. "But King Edmund, we swore to Phillip on our fathers' tails that we keep our promise to him and we hold no oath more sacred!"

I looked over at Valons standing midstream. I was sure my expression spoke volumes. He rolled his eyes, having little patience for Dogs and their notion of honor. He snorted and stamped his hoof, jerking his head slightly. I understood instantly.

"Ha, Jett!" I shouted, spurring her on. The black mare bolted. Unless the Dogs had relays set up, we could outrun them. We lead them on a merry chase, circling wide until we could come back upon my sisters and their party from behind. Jett was happy to be running fast and far and Valons, I was sure, could run all day. The complaining Dogs fell behind until the only noise was the sound of a running horse and a bounding Deer and for a little while I had the freedom I had sought.

When we reached the girls and their party (a few Dogs lighter) I was surprised to see Aslan walking with them. The Talking Animals were even more numerous than before, all of them excited to see the Lion and my sisters. As Valons and I trotted up I felt a pang of guilt for what I had done, especially when Aslan turned those golden eyes on me. My calm facade was fairly useless against that look and I fought the urge to squirm.

"Edmund," he said, and I knew I was be summoned. Aslan didn't even need to resort to using my middle name like Mum did. I dismounted and handed the reins off to a Dryad before facing my doom. I bowed, wishing I didn't look quite so windblown. Aslan growled slightly. "They merely keep a promise made to one who cares for you deeply."

"I know, Aslan. I just..." I shut my mouth with a snap. There were no excuses. I couldn't stop a sigh from escaping. "I understand. I won't do it again."

He nudged me with his nose. "It won't be for very long, I promise."

I looked up at him hopefully. If he said it, it was so, and I smiled. The smile became forced when I heard a host of barking Dogs catching up with us. Aslan seemed about to laugh as I turned to face my canine subjects, all of them happily telling me everything they had smelled and seen and imagined and a thousand other things I already knew about the ride.

Peter couldn't get back fast enough for me, and when I saw Phillip I was going to throttle him the moment I figured out how.


	3. Kellsalter

**Kellsalter**

Almost a month to the day that Peter departed, I made good on his command to plan a navy. With no admirals handy, I turned to the next best thing available: General Oreius.

After my usual Sixthday morning session, which ended up being one hundred and one offensive uses for a shield, I met the general in the chamber that served as a classroom for me and Peter. Despite my best efforts to escape Martil and Silvo as quickly as possible, Oreius was already there and waiting patiently. I cast him an apologetic look, but he was familiar with Fauns and their ways and he knew I was at the mercy of not one, but two valets.

Folding my arms across my chest, I looked up at the huge Centaur and got straight to business. "General, the day he left, Peter ordered me to plan a navy."

"A wise decision, King Edmund," he replied with the faintest of smiles. "Where do you intend to start?"

"I thought I'd start with you."

He smiled and huffed a small laugh. "Well, sire, first and foremost, if we _are_ to have a navy, the ships will need a harbor. We could begin by finding a suitable location."

It was a pleasant morning for me despite the constant ache in my chest and back. We went straight to the map room and spread out maps and charts and consulted old ledgers as we tried to find a suitable deep water harbor. I learned a lot about Narnian geography and about Oreius that day, for his knowledge was profound and he had traversed all of Narnia despite the Hundred-Year Winter. Like me, he was eager to see more of the country without a thick layer of snow and ice covering it. I think he enjoyed the day as much as I did. I'd like to think it was because of the company he spent it in, but if that was so he also enjoyed seeing me with a purpose.

"...so here at Kellsalter, Binya Creek, and Parn to the north...and to the south we have Junto Bay and Mull."

"We could ride north tomorrow," I suggested hopefully, visions of smart troops galloping forth to explore the coast dancing in my head.

He nodded, pleased with the plan as a whole, but I knew he'd approve of anything that expanded Narnia's defenses. "I will contact Mallo. The Merfolk will have invaluable advice."

"You're right. Good idea."

"Will your sisters the queens accompany us?"

I hesitated. He arched an eyebrow at me, amused.

"I guess we really won't be able to stop them," I finally reasoned glumly. I would have preferred to go with a band of soldiers, but really, the girls had a lot of say in such a project. "Don't underestimate them, General! They can turn anything into a picnic!"

So what had started out as an important military scouting expedition turned into a parade. When I told them about my intention of riding north on the morrow my sisters embraced the idea with an enthusiasm that was positively frightening and Susan immediately sent word to the kitchen and ordered up enough food for a small army. Lucy went about the palace inviting just about everyone she ran into including Aslan, Mr. Tumnus, the Beavers, and heaven knows how many ladies-in-waiting of the Nymph and Animal variety. Susan asked the court historian to come along, as well as Minovin the records keeper, our map maker, and several Dwarf engineers and architects and builders. To counter all these invitations, I ordered up soldiers, archers, half a dozen big Cats and two Gryphon scouts. And all this didn't include the Merfolk or the inevitable Dogs.

The next morning the front entrance of the palace was a veritable circus complete with lions, horses, dogs, Dwarfs, and pretty women in bright costumes. I sat atop Jett at the edge of the pandemonium, Aslan on my right and Oreius on my left, staring at the disorganization.

"Told you," I said to the Centaur, my disgust evident. He smiled and came dangerously close to laughing. Aslan did chuckle and set off at a slow, steady walk. Oreius and I caught up with him and let everyone else fall in behind us. It was actually very nice going and I could only hope Peter had similar weather for his quest. I squinted up at the sun and wondered if he was looking at it at the same moment and what he and Phillip were talking about. It was exactly a month since they had left and still the pain of their leaving was as acute as the pain of my wound.

The morning was a little cool, but as the sun rose higher and burned off the dew and mist it became very warm. The court ladies were singing and several had brought lutes. Celer walked beside Lucy on her palfrey, instructing her on the pan pipe ( to the annoyance of Tumnus, who couldn't play nearly as well as the captain and begrudged almost anyone so much of my sister's attention). I could hear Susan talking to Minovin and another female Centaur, Xati, who was with the archers and I quickly tuned them out since the topic was caring for hair and tails. The Dwarf builders were already bickering over the virtues of various types of wood to use as pilings and several of the Dryad ladies weighed in, being experts on the subject. Mrs. Beaver was making a fuss at my horse's canine escort. Mr. Beaver had already escaped her and was discussing dams with one of the engineers. I smiled to myself, pleased despite my complaints. I almost said that I wished Peter was with us, but as long as this spell held sway over the whole of my existence I knew he would not want to be here. Not until he...no, _we_ had seen this through to the end.

Aslan lead us through the forests along the coast further than I had ever been before. Most of the times I had come this way it had been with Peter and we had stuck to the beach to go climbing the rocks, for a few miles away from Cair Paravel the land rises in some very impressive cliffs which he and I scaled at every opportunity. We were quite familiar with the shore and I knew the remains of Jadis' wand were hidden in one of the many caves nearby, but the woods were a novelty.

"Majesty," said Oreius, pointing through a break in the trees.

I looked to the Eastern Sea and saw Mallo and her people waving from the ocean. "Say here!" I ordered the pack of Dogs and they reluctantly obeyed. Oreius and I left the trail and trotted down to the beach to meet them.

"Good morn, Lady Mallo," I said, nudging Jett into the water up to her knees.

Sitting in the turf, she greeted us with a smile and a bow. We quickly explained what we were planning and she nodded thoughtfully.

"Parn will not suffice, there are too many reefs and the cliffs are not stable due to the springs behind them," she said in her shrill voice, effectively shortening our ride by three miles. "But we'll scout out Kellsalter and Binya Creek today and I'll send some of my people to Junto and Mull."

"We'll meet you at Kellsalter in an hour," promised Oreius, rather optimistically I thought. It turned out I was right. We had turned our backs for too long and a tea party broke out in our absence. I groaned. When the time to go scout out the southern locations came I swore I was going to tell the girls about it a week after we got back.

"Are you in a hurry, Ed?" Susan asked casually, pouring Oreius some tea. He didn't dare refuse the tiny cup.

"Would it make a difference if I were?" I muttered, finally dismounting.

"It's not a race." My elder sister laughed at my impatience and offered me some tarts, which I waved away. Since the anniversary my appetite had been greatly diminished. Eating was...not comfortable and lately I tended to eat only when I was famished.

Eventually we managed to continue simply because I mounted up and left when I couldn't take it any more. Kellsalter was a very pretty, rounded bay five miles north of Cair Paravel. I would have liked a port here simply for the setting and easy access to the cliffs. The Dwarf engineers and builders swarmed around and about, for they are happiest when they're making something, even plans, and Minovin followed behind them sketching features of the terrain for them. I listened attentively as Celer and Oreius discussed possible defensive positions and fortifications. A group of Otters that called this place home cheerfully greeted our party. Lucy ran off playing with the younger Otters while the adults swam out to help Mallo and her people explore the channel. I noticed Aslan simply sat back and watched us all do our jobs and talked with the Gulls and Terns on the shore while passing Osprey called out greetings. Everyone was very busy for several hours and even though we had several more sights to explore and consider, I had a very good feeling about Kellsalter.

Binya Creek was not nearly as appealing when we finally reached it around noon. The tide was far out and the exposed mud stank like rotten eggs. Mallo reported the currents were stronger here and the tides more severe with the presence of an estuary. Building would be more difficult and it was four miles further away from Cair Paravel than Kellsalter. In short, I didn't like the place and I was glad when Susan and Lucy agreed with me. We allowed the Dwarfs to conduct their survey and I stayed with them on the smelly, muddy banks, but at the end of an hour their conclusions matched mine and Binya was abandoned as a site for a port.

"I sent the ladies ahead to set up our luncheon back at Kellsalter," Susan informed us after we trudged up the hill to join her and the Gryphons. "Lucy and Aslan went with them. Are you going to eat something today, Edmund?"

Blast. She'd noticed. "I'll eat lunch," I promised quietly, trying not to sound sullen and hoping Oreius didn't hear. If he found out I wasn't really eating much anymore I'd have the whole army on my back.

At Kellsalter the Otters joined us for luncheon and the party lingered under the elm and maple trees. The variety of food the kitchens at Cair Paravel produces was astonishing and given the nature of our company I wasn't surprised to see everything from roasted meats to compost to oats to whole, raw rabbits for the Gryphons. The Dryad ladies-in-waiting had bowls of loam and it was very odd to see such pretty women eating spoonfuls of dirt. One of the more daring young Otters tried the compost (mostly because the apricot Dryad that offered it to him was exceptionally pretty, I think) and ran away to wash his mouth out in the ocean. I ate very slowly, aware that both Susan and Aslan were watching me and everything that passed my lips, so I made it a point to clean my plate even though every swallow hurt my chest. I even tried one of the millet cakes the Centaurs were so fond of. It was remarkably bland and I must have chewed that one small piece for half an hour.

The Dwarfs asked leave to take more surveys and we gladly allowed them to carry on. Despite the delays and carnival air about the expedition, it was a very satisfying day. I was warm and as relaxed as I could be right now. I leaned back against the wide elm tree behind me and never noticed when I nodded off.

As I slept, a dream came to me.

I wish it hadn't.

I've always been the unfortunate one of the family to have the most vivid and horrifying nightmares and the wars in England and Narnia had just given my mind that much more ammunition with which to plague my sleep. I was actually used to Peter shaking me awake or pinning me down to keep me from thrashing and rousing everyone in the house. I can't begin to imagine how much sleep I'd lost him over the years and he was much better at calming my fears than even Mum or Dad. That was a large part of the reason we often shared the same bed, because when he was close I never had nightmares.

He certainly wasn't close today.

_I dreamt of water, icy and thick. I was being pulled down, down into darkness, deeper than light could reach. Coldness penetrated my limbs, sucking the warmth out of me. I fought and struggled against the pull but this was not my element and I was helpless before it. The weight of the water pressed the air from my lungs and I panicked. I couldn't see, couldn't breath, couldn't escape that iron grasp..._

_I gasped, water filling my mouth, my lungs. Ice-cold lips covered my scream..._

"NO!"

I struggled awake, panting desperately, my heart racing. I was under the elm tree still. It was day and I was warm and dry. Aslan and Lucy were right beside me and I felt my sister's small hands steadying me. She looked frightened, well aware I suffered from nightmares.

"Edmund! It's alright! It was just a dream! You're awake! You're awake."

Staring at her, I hoped she never felt what I felt just then. I would have done anything to spare both my sisters this awful, uncontrollable terror. The echoes of the nightmare lingered in my immediate consciousness and waking up did nothing to ease its power over me. There was something more to this fear, though, something deeper I had felt in the past. I looked at the Lion.

"You had a nightmare," he stated gently, his voice full of sympathy.

I shook my head, unable to so easily dismiss what I had experienced as mere imaginings. "I'm not sure," I whispered, suddenly aware that most of the party had been witness to my rude awakening. Susan was hurrying up from the beach, Dogs and Otters loping alongside her, and her face was full of concern.

"Not sure?" wondered Lucy.

I didn't answer her, just stared straight at Aslan, desperate for the calm reassurance in his golden eyes. I didn't want to reply because I didn't want to frighten her, didn't want to say it out loud, but I had the most horrible and devastating feeling that something terrible had just happened to Peter.


	4. Day of the Dead 1: Sword and Shield

**Day of the Dead 1: Sword and Shield**

Early the next morning I stood before Oreius and Celer and Kanell in no sort of mood whatsoever for training. I think they knew it because mercy for their only student was in short supply and Oreius drove me as never before. I was distracted by the nightmare I'd had the day before at Kellsalter and I was sick with worry over Peter. There had been times in the past when I had known he was sick or hurt before being told and that same anxious feeling twisted in my gut right now. Had he drowned? Had he been captured by some strange water creatures? Was he even alive? And what of Phillip?

"Shield up!" bellowed Celer, striking me a glancing blow to the helmet. The Faun's brown eyes were fierce and angry.

I obeyed without a word, hefting the shield higher as I attacked with Shafelm. My moves were so exact Oreius frowned at my atypical behavior. I was incapable of concentrating even though we were battling with sharp steel, my actions were automatic and by rote. Of the two of us, Peter was straightforward and a very skilled fighter. I was the underhanded maverick.

"Hold!"

We stopped and stepped apart. Oreius trotted up and glared hard at me. Out here he didn't care if I was a king. "Sir Edmund," he snapped, "you are not focused. Clear your mind. This is no place for your troubles."

"Yes, General," I replied automatically, fighting the twinge of aggravation in my breast. My brother could be dead for all we knew and he was more worried about my bloody shield.

"Again!"

I kept my shield up as Celer came at me again, but my ire only grew. I could feel my indignation at their indifferent conduct smoldering. I understood what they were doing and why – they were trying to force me to harden my heart and function beyond my concerns. But hadn't I been doing that since the anniversary? What else did they want from me?

I shoved the Faun back, following the push with Shafelm's point. Celer blocked, and something about his expression roused the warrior in me. He was displeased by my distraction. I felt an odd calm settle upon me as I became completely detached from my own self. If he wanted my attention, he was going to get it. This was a dangerous state, one I had experienced before, and I welcomed it because right now it suited my desire to hit something.

Something in my expression made Celer hesitate and I think he guessed what had happened between one heartbeat and the next. He had pulled the lion's tail, as it were.

Oreius shifted, sensing the change.

I attacked.

I did not like using a shield in single combat. In a melee it was a different matter, but one-on-one I preferred two hands on my sword or a sword in each hand. I'm not sure why, but I found them cumbersome and more work than they were worth. Still, if it was in my hands it was a weapon and I showed Oreius exactly how well this lesson had been driven home by swinging the pointed bottom of the shield at the Faun's head right behind my sword. Startled, Celer stepped back as I'd planned and I loosened my hold on the shield as I followed the swing through, sliding my arm free of the double straps. I caught the shield's rounded edge and, reversing my momentum, swung it back at him and smashed aside his own shield and sword. Startled by the unorthodox move, Celer danced back and quickly recovered as my shield clattered to the ground. He gave me a startled look. He knew, just as I knew, I could have killed him ten times over.

I moved my left hand over to join my right on Shafelm's grip, never looking away from the Faun as I dropped into a fighting stance. They wanted me to concentrate? Well, there was nothing in the world but me, this sword, and my opponent right now.

I lunged, driving the point of my blade at Celer's head. He blocked to the side and I twirled around in a tight pivot, bringing the sword arcing down at him with far more force than he expected. I knocked his shield aside and darted in past his defenses, twisting my body and blade into him in an overhand motion before slapping my palm flat on his chest to let him know he was dead. Before he could protest I yanked his sword out of his hand and whirled to face the two Centaurs.

"One sword," Oreius ordered Kanell. The captain nodded and drew one huge sword as he charged me.

I was too lost in this fighting mind set to have the sense to be frightened. Kanell was about ten times my size and knew exactly what he had taught me. I was not Peter, who had once disarmed Celer before 'killing' him and then backed Oreius into a corner and made the general sweat. Dueling Celer I had a chance due to our relative size and build. Kanell just deliberately wore me out, burning off the anger that had gripped me. He used only his one sword against my two and kindly did not attack with more than I was capable of defending against.

I blocked and parried and tried to attack. I could see a gleam of pleasure in Kanell's dark eyes and I knew it was because Oreius was witness to the training he had given me and because for a while I managed to hold my own. Fatigue was starting to catch up with me and I was breathing hard and sweating in the cool morning air. I crossed the blades over my head, blocking his sword, then thrust them away to swing Shafelm around towards his mid-section. With remarkable speed, he blocked. I was concentrating on three swords so hard I missed his other hand and laid his open palm on my chest, right over the wound, stopping me cold. I was dead.

I stared at the huge, dark hand in surprise. This certainly wasn't the first time I had been declared dead here in this courtyard, but he had effectively snapped me out of this displaced state of rage.

Kanell smiled down at me. "Well fought, your majesty," was his quiet assessment before drawing back away.

I stood there in the middle of the courtyard gasping for air, drained and exhausted and wondering what I had done. Things seemed to come back into focus as my heart gradually slowed down and I could breath easily again. I slid Shafelm back into its sheath and handed Celer his own sword back, both of us a little sheepish. Then I picked up my shield and slid it over my arm again before I faced Oreius.

There was no telling by his expression what he thought about this outburst of mine, but I felt a twinge of shame that I had allowed my anger to rule me. Still, Oreius had indulged my little fit and let me wear myself to nothing. He must have recognized the demons inside me. I felt much better for it even if there was a line of throbbing pain going straight through my chest.

Oreius gestured and a Dwarf archer brought me a goblet of water. I drank it gratefully and handed the empty cup back with my thanks. Then I stood before the general waiting to be dismissed. The Centaur gave me a measured look, then slowly turned.

"Walk with me, Sir Edmund."

I had little choice but to fall in beside him and we passed the barracks and armory and into the fields beyond. Here was where the army drilled and Susan worked on her archery. Sometimes Oreius would bring me and Peter out here to train. There was a wide stream winding through the field and last winter, when the water had frozen over, he set us out on the ice in full armor to work on our balance. Peter and I still laughed about it.

We paused on a wooden footbridge over the stream, my armored boots as noisy as Oreius' horseshoes. I pulled off my helmet and pushed the mail cowl back, letting the cool morning breeze dry my damp hair as I studied our wavering reflections in the slow-moving water below.

"What happened?" asked Oreius.

I shook my head. "I'm not sure. Something...set me off."

"Do you understand why I made you fight?"

"Yes. My enemy doesn't care if I'm in the mood to pulverize him or not."

He smiled. "Precisely, so long as you _do_ pulverize him."

"Well, if he catches me in a mood like today, he's pulp."

I didn't have to see his face to know he smiled faintly. I felt a large hand on my shoulder.

"You are sorely distracted, my king."

"I..." I had to talk. I needed to tell someone and my trust in the general was an absolute. I took a deep breath. "I...yes. The nightmare I had yesterday at Kellsalter...I'm not sure it was actually a dream."

Concern filled his eyes. "How so? What was the dream?"

"I was drowning. I could feel it. And then...I wasn't any more but I was still under water. I think...Oreius, I think something awful happened to Peter yesterday." There. I had said it aloud. It didn't sound quite so strange after all. Since entering Narnia, strange had been defined anew every day.

"You think your brother drowned?" he asked in a steady voice, voicing the worry I could not. I could tell his self control was being strained to the limit.

"I...I don't know. But I've felt in the past when something bad has happened to him and yesterday felt like that."

"Have you told this to Aslan?"

"No."

"Perhaps you should. It may be Aslan can set your mind at ease."

"I'll speak to him today. Immediately." The hand tightened on my shoulder and I leaned against the Centaur for a few moments of support. I considered the Centaur a friend, and I couldn't help but wonder if he minded my being so presumptuous. "Oreius, may I ask you something?"

"Ask, my king, and if I am able I will answer."

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I was just wondering...do you...like me?"

His surprise was almost comical, but he recovered swiftly and replied, "Yes, King Edmund, I like you very well indeed. You are generous and kind and clever and you are learning wisdom. I not only like you, but I love and respect you."

It was my turn to be surprised. Love and respect? Me?

"Why?" I whispered before I could stop myself. Peter I could see, because he was Peter. But me?

There was no hesitation in his reply. "The night I rescued you from the White Witch's camp, even before we had reached safety, you fell asleep in my arms. I was prepared to despise you. I could not understand how one such as the High King could be related to a traitor. And then I saw the abuses you endured and I came to understand the nature of your enchantment. But when you fell asleep in my arms, trusting a hostile stranger to keep you safe, I was undone and I was yours as surely as I was your brother's."

His words astonished me and I know my expression must have said as much. He smiled, and I believed he understood why I was asking, why I needed to hear this.

"Think upon this, King Edmund: there were many traitors to Narnia during the tyranny of the White Witch. Every Talking Animal that sided with her, every Dwarf and Satyr and even the Fell Creatures were traitors to Narnia and to Aslan. You and you alone have publicly acknowledged your failing and have tried to atone for your sins. Those are not the acts of a coward, nor yet the acts of one that does not care deeply for his land. And _that_ is why I like you, for no matter how distasteful it may prove, you are a man of truth."

I gazed up at him, grateful for his words, and said simply, "Thank you."


	5. Day of the Dead 2: Quick and the Dead

**Day of the Dead 2: The Quick and the Dead**

We finally caught up with Aslan in Cair Paravel. One of the Bat couriers, sleepy from being up so late, landed on my arm and whispered that the Lion was in the throne room. Oreius' hooves and my armor and shield and boots clanked a merry tattoo as we strode through the marble halls. Though Oreius and I had been up for hours the castle was just rousing. I was subject to an odd look here and there, for Peter and I almost never wore armor outside the training grounds and I'm sure the newly-awakened servants took me for a Dwarf guard.

"Stay with me, General," I quietly requested when Oreius would have waited outside the throne room, for I needed as many steady friends as possible right now. He nodded and followed without a word. Aslan was out on the balcony to greet the rising sun, his long shadow stretching across the inlaid floor. We were so noisy there was no way he could have missed our arrival and I waited for him to acknowledge my presence. He didn't turn around immediately, but he tested the salty breeze and drew a deep breath. I realized what he was about to do an instant too late to act and when he let out a mighty roar, I staggered back a step at the sheer volume. Oreius steadied me and I smirked, realizing that Aslan had loosed his roar for the sheer pleasure of it. That I could understand and appreciate. It seemed to make him more . . . well, certainly not human, but I could relate better after having seen him indulging himself.

There was delight in his golden eyes as he turned to me and Oreius with a smile. We both bowed to him and he came forward to nudge me with his nose.

"Good morn, Aslan," I said, wishing I could match his pacific calm.

"And to you, Edmund, Oreius." He looked at me evenly, waiting. I was sure he already knew why I was here, but he let me set the pace of this meeting.

I found myself studying the intricate pattern in the floor for a moment as I collected myself. "Aslan. Yesterday at Kellsalter I woke up from a nightmare."

"Was it a nightmare?" wondered the Lion, concerned. "You said you weren't sure."

"Well, I don't know. I was hoping you could help me. You see, I dreamed of drowning. Something pulled me into the water. I was fighting but the water was so cold and I was so deep it hurt."

His expression was gentle and sympathetic. We were both familiar with the sensation of dying.

"Did you drown?" he finally asked.

I started. "No. No, I didn't. At least, I don't think so. If it _wa_s me. You see, just as I felt the water going into my lungs, something . . . kissed me." I frowned, realizing exactly that had happened. Kissed? I unconsciously put a hand to my mouth, remembering the feel of ice-cold lips and slime. "Ugh!" I exclaimed, then realized where I was. I put my hand down hastily and composed myself. I wasn't sure how kings dealt with unwelcome advances, but it certainly couldn't be by yelling 'ugh!' in the midst of company. "And then I . . . wasn't drowning and I woke up."

"What makes you think this was no dream?"

I swallowed. Here was the heart of the issue. "Because I have the feeling something horrid has happened to Peter."

There was a flash of worry in those golden eyes, then Aslan's ears perked up and he cocked his head. "You've felt this before." It wasn't a question.

I nodded. "When he was eight, he fell from a tree and broke his wrist. I knew something had happened to him and I cried and cried to my mum that he was hurt until his friend came and fetched her an hour later. And I've always known when he's getting sick before he does. It just . . . I don't know." I shook my head, wishing I could better express the nagging sensation that accompanied the times my brother landed himself in trouble. I should have paid more attention at the time. "I just know something has happened to him and it's bad."

Oreius shifted. I gazed at Aslan unflinchingly.

"Aslan, I need to know if something has happened to Peter."

For a moment the Lion looked a thousand miles away and for all I knew, he was. When he spoke his voice held the utmost understanding. "Edmund, beloved child, I can only tell you your own tale."

I stepped closer and insisted, "What happens to Peter _is_ my tale right now, Aslan!"

He drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Finally he said in whispered tones, "Something has happened."

"Is he dead?" I demanded.

"No."

Relief hit me as hard as a blow and I wavered where I stood. Alive. He was still alive. Not drowned. There was a chance. He would succeed. I would live to see him again . . . I would live . . . I felt an equally powerful wave of shame that my initial relief would be for my own survival. Peter was sacrificing all for me and I was horrified with my own selfishness. It was several deep breaths before I could put aside my self-blame as pointless. My reaction did not cheapen my concern for him. I hadn't even realized how frightened I had been until that fear was alleviated.

Again, Oreius' heavy hand fell upon my shoulder and he gripped me tightly, practically keeping me from falling over. "Peace, sire. Your brother lives."

I pressed for more information. "Is he safe?"

"In a sense," said Aslan, inclining his head.

"Is he being held?"

"In another sense. But he lives."

I nodded faintly. "Aslan?" I asked breathlessly. I was trembling and my knees no longer felt strong enough to support me.

"My child?"

My throat was tight but somehow my voice was steady. "If Peter should . . . if he . . . " I swallowed heavily, fighting down an image of my brother alone, dead and drowned out in the Western Wild. "Is lost, will you tell me?"

The Lion lifted his huge paw to my shoulder. "I swear to you, King Edmund, that I will tell you. But you in turn must promise me something."

"Anything," I said.

"Do not forget what you promised Peter before he left."

I had promised Peter not to lose faith or to give up. I had also said I would think of him if I ever despaired. And I had promised to try to forgive myself. I nodded to Aslan even though he knew, as I did, that if Peter failed there was little hope I would live. I honestly didn't know if I would want to. Meeting his eye, I replied faintly, "I remember."

Suddenly I was exhausted. Events and exertions caught up with me in a rush and I wanted nothing more than to sit on the floor and hang my head and let the sun warm me. It was so very tempting, but I thought upon all the times I knew Peter had been this weary yet still managed to carry himself as befitting a king. I could do no less. I had to clean up and go eat breakfast with my sisters before reporting back to Oreius for instruction and then help my sisters run this country. It was daunting, overwhelming, even, especially since on top of all that I had to struggle with what Jadis had done to me and every move ached and . . .

"Sit," Oreius abruptly ordered in a tone of voice I knew not to argue with. His hand pressed me down and I ended up hanging my head in the sun anyway, though in my initial vision of the event I hadn't been so thoroughly forlorn and light-headed. The Centaur stripped away my shield and helmet and gloves set them aside as Aslan pressed his face close to me. I leaned heavily into the Lion, clinging to the soft, coarse mane beneath my fingers. I felt pale and weak and chilled to the bone. My chest was tight and my breathing felt labored.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, not exactly sure why I was apologizing. If I hadn't been so weary I might have cried, even if I wasn't very good at it. I couldn't understand why I was reacting so strongly to the news that Peter was alive.

"Don't be, Edmund," said Aslan softly. "You have had a sore trial this past month. King though you are, you must not forget you are also a child and," he said in a slightly sterner tone before I could protest, "you are not your brother."

With a sigh I admitted, "I wish I was more like him."

"Just as he wishes he was more like you, sire," Oreius answered. He had fetched some wine and held the goblet before me. "You do very well as yourself. Now drink, Sir Edmund and when you are done, I order you to go lay down and sleep."

"But-"

He raised a finger to shush me. "You have not been dismissed. You are still my student. Now drink."

The wine was red and sweet and reminded me of the anniversary celebration. I rarely drank unwatered wine and it hit my system almost immediately. Still, I drank it all. It was a heady few mouthfuls. I didn't like this feeling at all, this absolute fatigue and emotional drain, but they were both right and I desperately needed to sleep.

"Come," said Aslan, rising. I stood on shaky feet, one hand tangled in his mane. Oreius stood to the other side, holding my arm in case I collapsed. My knees were tempted to give way but I refused to succumb to dizziness. They guided me out of the throne room and to Peter's chambers where Silvo and Martil took charge of me. The Fauns helped to pull off the heavy armor and after a word from Aslan they settled me comfortably in Peter's bed. I was asleep before the covers were tucked in around me and I knew Aslan stayed with me because I didn't dream.


	6. The Boy King

**The Boy King**

Oreius' confidence in me got its first test not a week later with the arrival of an ambassador from Somm, a small island in the Eastern Sea that was a dukedom attached to Archenland much like Galma was to Narnia. It was Firstday, so after a morning battling generals and captains on the training ground I had spent the better part of the day learning about flanking maneuvers. There was a great deal about the lessons that appealed to me, mostly the fact that I understood and could apply what I had learned. I was beginning to see what Oreius had meant when he said diplomacy was a civilized form of warfare, and I completely revised my opinion of Susan's fighting ability.

The ambassador was representing a guild of Somm merchants who wanted to establish trade rights with Narnia. They dealt in fabrics and spices and other exotics from Calormen and they were eager for the wood and metal and produce Narnia had in such abundance. Mr. Tumnus, acting as chamberlain, gave us a brief summary of their proposal and a quick history of the ambassador's credentials before we met him in the throne room. I was careful to watch the Faun's expression as he spoke because Peter had once said a great deal could be learned about a person by Tumnus' reaction to them. If I read him aright, the good Faun was not overly impressed with Somm's ambassador.

It turned out Mr. Tumnus and I were on the same page, for I disliked the man from the start. I thought Lord Melier was rather young for his station (though I was hardly one to talk) and there was an arrogance about him he did not merit. Oreius was allowed to be arrogant if he chose, for he had earned the right. This smarmy merchant in gaudy clothes had no such claims to greatness. I knew from his first words that he saw us as mere children and clearly thought he could lead us about. He had unwittingly fallen into the trap we set by merely being ourselves: he underestimated us.

Melier and his party bowed low and his eyes swept across us all, lingering on Susan in a way I didn't appreciate and sweeping over Lucy and dismissing her completely. He stared at Peter's empty throne and looked at me only when he felt the weight of my stare upon him. He met my eye and smiled in what he clearly thought was a charming manner. I suppose no one had ever told him he was a cretin, but given the chance and so many words, I'd happily enlighten him.

"Aslan's blessing upon your majesties," he said, clearly unaware that said Lion was presently meeting with the head of Parliament in the library. Aslan had confidence that we could run Narnia and so let us continue without interfering unless asked.

"And upon you and your embassage," Susan replied. "Welcome to Narnia, Lord Melier. We look forward to our dealings with you and trust that we may come to an accord over trade."

"That is my wish as well, gentle queen. Will your brother not be joining us?"

"My brother is right here, sir," Susan replied, cocking an eyebrow at him. By the cant of her head I could see she was as annoyed as I. Lucy, I was sure, was give him her closest equivalent of a pouting glare.

Again that oily smile, as if he were indulging children. "My apologies," he said smoothly. "I was merely curious as to the High King's contributions to our negotiations."

That was the last straw. Peter wouldn't tolerate this conduct and neither would I. A deep and useful anger welled up in my chest.

"Who are you, sir?" I asked sharply before Susan could reply.

Confused, Melier gave the answer he thought I wanted to hear. "King Edmund, I am Lord Melier of Somm, representing the Merchant's Guild of Keln." He gave another little bow. I knew he must have thought I was something of an idiot. It was time to relieve him of those notions and remind him of his place.

"I know _what_ you are," I said, "I asked _who_ you are. For who are you that the king and queens of Narnia do not suffice to negotiate a trade agreement to _your_ satisfaction? Who are you to question our authority in our own dominion? Think you that we somehow lack the ability to run and defend our country in the absence of our royal brother?" I stared at him, waiting for an answer, amazed at myself for not tripping over my own tongue. Beyond him his fellow representatives looked shocked and ashamed and ready to lynch Melier for putting his foot in it so deeply. I held his eye steadily, forcing myself not to glare. Peter would have been more subtle, I was sure, but at least I got it over with quicker.

Melier swallowed and bowed again. "No offense was intended, King Edmund."

But offense was taken and everyone knew it even if we were too polite to say as much. My reply was a slow and non-committal, "Indeed." I decided to end this interview to allow his party time to draw and quarter him in private. "You have traveled far and are weary," I informed him, and he was wise enough not to dispute the fact. "You'll be given quarters and we can meet tomorrow at this time. Until then, Lord Melier."

They were escorted out of our presence by some highly amused Satyrs. That first meeting set the pace for the rest of our royal duties. No one cared to cross us after seeing Melier's hasty retreat and everything was completed with such dispatch that we found ourselves with an hour of freedom before tea.

"Let's go for a walk," invited Susan. Her tone informed Lucy and me we had no choice in the matter. When we were outside in the gardens she smiled upon me and laughed. "Well done, Ed. He needed that and so did I."

I snorted. "A boot to his seat is what that prat needs.'The High King's contributions.' Huh. Why doesn't anybody warn these blooming idiots that we're not nearly as dense as they are?"

"That's half the fun, Ed," Susan chuckled. "I think by tomorrow he'll be singing a new song."

Tomorrow. She spoke the word so casually, but for me it meant losing yet another round to Jadis.

She was quite right, as it turned out. The next day Melier was a changed man with a whole new appreciation for Narnia's monarchs. I gave it a little thought and decided that Peter would have acted as if the initial meeting had never occurred, and so that's exactly how I conducted myself. Melier, whose party took a more active role at the following meeting, did not squander this second chance and over the course of several days a very satisfactory trade agreement was hammered out.

I supposed I owed Melier some sort of thanks for giving me a chance to sharpen my claws and showing me that I really could command the same respect Peter did. I had a great deal to mull over and sitting in my room, waiting for midnight, I began to think, seriously think, about what kingship truly meant. It was probably overdue, but up until now the necessity hadn't been staring me in the face.

High King Peter and Peter Pevensie were two different people with a great deal in common. Peter my brother was understanding and affectionate and smart and the best person I knew. High King Peter was all those things and more, far more, for there was a certainty about him I had never detected in anyone else. He didn't simple have the title of High King; he _was _the High King as surely as if he had come into his own. As he moved through Cair Paravel he had an assurance and dignity that was as natural to him as breathing. I had watched some of the Swans move across the pools in the palace gardens with the same commanding confidence that my brother possessed as he took his throne. The crown was his as surely as the water belonged to the Swans. There was no question about it. The rest of us were acquiring our skills, but as far as I could tell, now that I no longer saw him with resentful eyes, Peter had come into the world this way. In England, I mean, before we stumbled through the wardrobe. He had always been a leader and protector and he placed the whole world before himself. Yet somehow, at the same time, I also saw my brother. He wasn't flawless. He was mischievous and occasionally a complete idiot, sometimes overbearing, and prone to bossiness until confronted, but his flaws (unlike mine) were more endearing than exasperating.

With this sterling example in mind (though I sorely wished it was before me right then) I began to understand why Peter worried and pushed himself so hard. This was no light undertaking Aslan had gifted us with and I realized why my older siblings were so often serious and thoughtful. As I contemplated the roles of kings and queens I realized that for all the fine trappings and ceremonies, we were the ultimate servants to our country. Narnians might serve us, but we served Narnia. Peter had understood that from the start. Susan was learning it. And now I finally realized what I needed to do.

I needed to be a king. Not just act like one, but to_ be_ one. And it wasn't just for me or Narnia, but for Peter. He needed me, and he had been telling me that since the Battle of Beruna, but up until now I hadn't realized he needed me to be able to think and act and reign independent of him and the girls.

I remembered how pleased he had been when I returned from the Blue River Smithy with the good will and friendship of the Black Dwarfs. It had not been a simple task, but knowing that we needed their skill and support, I would have done anything necessary to gain it. I had earned more than their regard - I had their respect. I hadn't quite realized it at the time, but all my efforts and sweat and barbed words had been a negotiation process that had resulted in benefits for all parties concerned. _I_ had done that. And now, with Melier, I had managed something similar. Using words and actions, I had changed things for the better. Not only for me and my family, but I had changed things for Narnia.

My brother had always said I was the clever one. I never should have doubted his word. Apparently I was just slow to catch on. What had probably taken Peter five minutes to figure out had taken me a year.

_I say, Ed, well done_, Peter's faintly sarcastic and amused voice echoed in my head, and I scowled exactly as I would have had he been here. It felt good.

Peter was the leader, but he depended on us - me in particular - to be his eyes and ears. Perhaps, too, I could learn to be the voice of compromise. Peter called me his balance. Perhaps that was my calling, to find common ground and build bridges. I _knew_ evil and injustice and what it felt like to be helpless. I also knew the relief of seeing justice served.

The thought struck me so profoundly I sank down onto Peter's bed, my mind awhirl.

King Edmund the Just.

I _was_ King Edmund the Just, and I finally understood what that meant.

If Peter was Narnia's Sword, I would be her Shield.

I didn't hear the knock, but I looked up as Silvo threw open the doors for Aslan to enter. I raised my head from my hands, staring at the huge Lion, so preoccupied by this epiphany that I was unafraid of midnight for the first time since the anniversary.

"Aslan," I exclaimed, barely recognizing my own voice, "I need to become a judge."

If he was surprised, he was also very pleased. He smiled and nodded his head thoughtfully, his deep voice filling me with confidence as he said, "Yes, you do."


	7. Royal Mail

**Royal Mail**

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**To His Royal Majesty King Edmund the Just, from Brickit, Chief Smith of the Blue River Smithy, greetings!**

**Sire, we are in the hopes this letter finds you well despite your troubles and it is our great desire that you will grace us with your presence as soon as you are able. Your witty companionship was a welcome diversion after years of the morose demeanors and long faces of my kinsmen, and your skills as a smithy are only just blooming and need proper tending and care to come to full flower. We are at your convenience for the time of your return.**

**Respectfully,**

**Chief Smith Brickit**

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_Chief Smithy Brickit –_

_Run out of beer, did you?_

_Blooming? Flower? Witty companionship? Respectfully? Are you unwell, good my Dwarf? If I remember aright, on that sad day I met you, you said I wasn't even big enough to be called a tadpole. You wasted two weeks calling me 'Spawn' until you finally figured out I wasn't responding and learned how to pronounce my name. Pray contact me immediately if you need the assistance of the court healers. I fear for your health and sanity._

_Let me know when the time is least convenient and I'll be sure to darken your doorstep most gracefully then. Until our happy reunion, I remain_

_Your favorite King,_

_Edmund_

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**King Edmund,**

**Fie! If my good manners are to be mocked by an upstart brat, so be it, the favor will be returned! No time is convenient and the sorry sight of you will only cause me to lock the door. And our supply of beer is as well stocked as ever, thanks to my brother!**

**Chief Smithy Brickit**

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_Chief Smithy Brickit,_

_You've installed a door in an open air smithy? I must come see this engineering marvel with mine own eyes. Sadly, you will be denied my effervescent demeanor and short face until such time as my elder brother (Peter, remember? The High King? The one you called 'Nancy' until my elbow taught you how to distinguish Sons of Adam from Daughters of Eve?) returns from adventuring into the Western Wild in order to break the enchantment presently making my life interesting. Until such time, pray accept these casks of beer so that you will recognize what the refreshment is supposed to taste like, unlike the poison that you've mistaken as beer. In sympathy I remain_

_Your favorite King,_

_Edmund_

_P.S. Would that be the same brother that thought he could smoke sausages over a coal fire? If so, that explains a great deal about the 'beer.'_

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Edmund,**

**Favorite? You are no more my favorite anything than you are welcome west of Cair Paravel. I was under the impression that kings were supposed to be courtly in their manners and speech. Clearly I was wrong, but there is a first time for everything and Aslan teaches us we must be patient with poor, dumb beasts and boys.**

**We drank the so-called beer you sent. It explains a great deal about your taste in food and clothes and aspirations to manners, all of which are lacking. The stuff the Queens sent us for suffering your miserable presence was better.**

**Chief Smithy Brickit**

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_My dearest Brickit –_

_Aslan, his blessings upon you who need them the most, teaches us a great deal. I was always touched by the patience your brother displayed towards you throughout my stay and tried to emulate his conduct where you were concerned. When next I come to prune and fertilize my smithing skills, I shall endeavor to introduce you to another refreshment enjoyed by civilized beings from Calormen to Harfang, known commonly as wine, since you seem incapable of recognizing the same beer you drank before. Until that enlightening day, I remain_

_Your most favorite and beloved King,_

_Edmund_

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Spawn,**

**The WINE will be most welcome.**

**Chief Smithy Brickit**

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_My dear and faithful Brickit - _

_Alas, good my Dwarf, the wine cannot bring itself to you regardless of how hard you may wish it could be so. Neither yet may the gifts my dear sisters the Queens were intending to bestow upon your most unworthy smithy. They will be disappointed but resolved to your rejection of their favors. As I unpack their generous gifts, I remain_

_Your esteemed soverign and King,_

_Edmund_

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**King Edmund,**

**Not so hasty, now! I know what store females place upon packing! You've great potential for this noble craft and I would hate to see it wasted or, worse, corrupted by the likes of those that should stick to wood and stone and leave metals to the experts. I want your word you'll not fall under the sway of any of those ruddy eastern 'smiths' that spread over Narnia like poison ivy.**

**Brickit**

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_My dear and faithful Chief Smithy - _

_I'm grateful to see your tendency towards self-service is as healthy as ever and your low opinion of everyone but yourself hasn't altered. It's rather refreshing in some strange way which I can't be bothered to explain. _

_I hereby swear to you to turn a deaf ear to any smith who would speak craft to me so long as you promise not to speak ill of Poison Ivy. Like you, they can't help what they were born and unlike you, some of them are quite nice once you get to know them. _

_Your most beloved and generous King,_

_Edmund_

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Spawn,**

**Are all Sons of Adam as arrogant and obnoxious as you?**

**Your favorite and most talented Smith,**

**Brickit**

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_My dearest Son of the Earth -_

_No, not all Sons of Adam are arrogant and obnoxious, only the ones foolish enough to befriend Dwarfs._

_Your beloved King,_

_Edmund_

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**King Edmund,**

**Ha! I thought as much. I haven't seen that brother of yours trying to befriend any Dwarfs.**

**The finest smith in Narnia,**

**Bricket**

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_Dearest Brickit - _

_Peter is no fool._

_Your beloved King,_

_Edmund_

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Edmund,**

**I'm glad to see you're not following your brother's example in _this_, at least.**

**Will you just come in the spring? **

**Brickit**

**P.S. And bring the wine!**

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I smirked at the post script as I folded the parchment up again. Brickit was grouchy and suspicious, but I knew he was also very proud of his relationship with me and for all his sour words he was a true friend. He was also remarkably patient for a Black Dwarf and likable in his own abrasive way. I liked that he was so self-assured that he neither fawned nor scraped and could insult me in a letter and expect the same back. I looked up at the little brown Bat hanging from a tapestry on the wall, drying the raindrops from her wings and resting from her long flight.

"So what did he say when he opened my last letter?"

She let out a small, shrill laugh that produced a howl and a few exclamations of pain from Animals passing in the hall. "The usual, King Edmund. He cursed and shouted and waved his arms and spent about an hour trying to think of a suitable answer."

I chuckled. "Why don't you go rest, Queel? I can answer this tomorrow."

"Majesty." She bowed and fluttered off. Still smiling, I opened a drawer in my desk and dropped the letter in, the latest in a long and entertaining correspondence. Then I stared at the blank parchment before me and almost without thinking I lifted the Gryphon-feather quill and began to write:

_Dear Peter,_

_It seems foolish to write you a letter I'll never send and you'll never see, but Cheroom says at times there's great wisdom in foolishness. I suppose that makes me the wisest person alive._

_I miss you, Peter. I miss you terribly. More than even that. More than I've told Lucy or Aslan. I'm trying not to feel lost without you but I don't think I'm doing a very job of it. I keep waking up and expect you to be in the room. Last week I sat down to lunch and waited for you until I remembered you were gone. You left six weeks ago and I can't shake the feeling that something bad has happened to you. Aslan says you're alive, but held after a fashion. Exactly what that means I can't figure out, but he promises that you're alive and I really can't ask for much more, except your freedom and safe return and to be looking back on this time from about ten years down the road. Not too much to ask for. _

_I can't begin to tell you how I feel about all this. I suppose because I'm not sure how I feel myself. I'm amazed you're doing all this for me. You wondered how to thank me for the knife? How on earth do I ever thank you for saving my life? You just rode off so confidently. I know you can do this, I just wonder if I can._

_It hurts. Every breath hurts. It's like a nasty stitch that goes straight through me. I tried to keep our old schedule, but I couldn't and now Oreius won't even start training until eight o'clock, and I usually meet with Cheroom after dinner to make up time in lessons. I'm always tired all the time anyway and I've started to get headaches. I suppose it's the pain talking. Still, I keeping up with the training for now and I hope you are, too. You're going to need it since Kanell started me with two swords. I think I'm hiding it pretty well from the girls and most of the palace. Martil and Silvo help cover for me, too, Aslan bless them._

_Where are you, Peter? Have you gotten very far? I wish I had sent some Bats with you so they could report back. Is Phillip well? Be careful, he can be very protective. Did you know that he set the Dogs on all the horses in the stables? As I said before you left, we can't even run our own lives. _

_I would give anything to be with you right now and I would give even more to have you safely home. There are a thousand things I thought to tell you after you left, so I'll write you now and I promise I'll find a way to tell you when you return. I love you. I look up to you. I wish I was half as good a person as you are. I'm sorry I was such a prat for all those years. I was jealous and angry and just being a beast as I tried to knock you off the pedestal I set you on. I wasn't fair to you or Lucy or Susan. I expected the world from all the people around me but I didn't feel obligated to return the gesture. You never gave up on me and for that I'm grateful. I need you. I want you to be part of my life forever. I know you will be, just because you're you. _

_I told Aslan I need to become a judge. I want to be a judge, but I also need to be one. You really don't know what justice is until you've experienced injustice. I've known both, and I want to see everyone treated fairly. Even myself._

_I miss you. Keep safe, keep in one piece, and hurry back._

_Love,_

_Edmund_

I closed and sealed the letter without reading it over again. I sat for a few moments and watched the raindrops on the windows of my bedroom, following the drops as they were dyed every color against the stained glass. I felt better for having written out my jumbled thoughts and feelings.

Finally I stood and tossed the letter into the fire. I watched as the parchment burned and curled, revealing my words for a few moments before blazing up bright and hot and falling down as ash.


	8. Mrs Tibs

**Mrs. Tibs**

"Yoli, good cousin, you must lose some weight."

The harrier let out a little moaning whine as I paused to heft him higher in my grasp.

"I'm sorry, King Edmund."

I sighed and shook my head, unable to stay cross when he was so clearly miserable and ashamed. My arms were filled to capacity by a wet, smelly Dog as I trudged through the forest back towards Cair Paravel. It was just a little too biting cold for my exertions to warm me and my boots were soaked through and chafing my feet. I could only pray I'd see the paddocks soon or at least hear Kep returning with help. Given the fact that Kep was a Dachshund with legs as long as my finger and was easily distracted by so much as a gnat, and the fact that I had ridden at least three miles from the castle, I didn't hold out hope for either scenario coming true anytime soon.

With a few blessed hours to myself for once, I had just gone for an afternoon walk around the paddocks and spotted Marsk walking towards me. He liked company, this horse, and was very friendly and gentle. He followed me all the way to the edge of the forest and I released him through the far gate. With nothing pressing to attend to, I climbed onto his back and took him for a quick ride. It was a good ten minutes before the Dogs noticed one of their charges had escaped and Yoli had immediately set out to find Marsk. Kep...well, wasn't hot on his heels, but he followed as best he could. Yoli snagged his leg in a tree root and went down with a bad sprain and a deep cut on the pad of his paw. I heard the dramatic whelping and whining behind me and reluctantly turned Marsk around and went to the rescue.

Kep caught up to Yoli just as I arrived. Riding bareback, there was no way I could get Yoli onto Marsk's back to carry him home. He could couldn't walk and I couldn't leave him because it was beginning to rain again. So here I was trudging through the woods with a fat hound held in my arms like a baby. His front paws hung over my shoulders and with my arms I supported his rump and middle as I picked my path. Marsk I had sent back to the paddock with one sharp swat to startle him into motion and Kep had been sent to fetch help. I suspected the only thing of importance in his mind was that it was close to dinner time. I had serious misgivings about sending Kep for anything, let alone assistance. He suffered from some type of Napoleonic complex where he tended to blow things out of proportion to make up for his lack of stature, but I had little choice and he was better than nothing, or so it seemed at the moment. If I got lucky he might just remember what I told him and not embellish and distort it until his version had nothing to do with reality.

"Tail," I snapped as Yoli's whip of a tail began to wag and beat my knees. He immediately stilled it.

"Why did you follow?" I demanded shortly. "Am I so incapable of taking care of myself?"

"We promised Phillip, King Edmund," he said miserably, well aware I was cross.

"And who is Phillip?" I muttered.

"Your friend," said the Dog simply, effectively shutting me up. I paused and looked at him with a tired sigh. Then I hitched him up again and asked,

"Does it hurt very much?"

He was wise enough to take my question as the peace offering it was and said, "It hurts very badly indeed, my king."

"Where shall I take you? The only healers I know are in the palace."

"Then you should come to the stables," he said. "I think the best healer lives there."

"And who is that?"

"Anthea Tibs."

"The stables it is," I said, rather glad I didn't have to carry him all the way to Cair Paravel now. Dusk was rapidly approaching and it was starting to rain in earnest. Luckily the woods were thinning and I could see flashes of the still-green fields beyond. A few more minutes of hauling around wet, smelly hound and Cair Paravel came into view. The windows were aglow with light and it looked all very cozy and dry from more than a mile away. It was a beautiful and graceful building, crowning Mont Paravel as delicately as Susan's tiara rested upon her head. I paused for a moment and sighed, gathering strength. My arms and chest were aching and it was hard to breathe, but the stables were in sight and I didn't have all that far to go, praise be to Aslan.

"I'm sorry again, King Edmund," muttered Yoli, resting his head down on my shoulder and almost making me lose my balance.

"You were just keeping your word," I said to reassure him. "Next time, though, perhaps a little less enthusiasm."

I was almost staggering as I reached the stables. There were several stables and barns removed from most of the other our buildings of the Cair and Yoli directed me to the nearest thatch-roof structure. A little run down by comparison to the rest of the stables, this building was only used when everything else was filled to capacity and it was much smaller than the rest of the stables. I had never been in it before, that I knew. I tapped on the door with my foot and a moment later a small orange paw pushed the door open and I was facing a long-haired, ginger tabby with tinted, gold-framed glasses perched on her nose.

"Good eve, cousin," I said. "We're looking for Anthea Tibs, the healer."

The Cat bowed. "You have found her, Sire, and - Yoli! What have you gotten into now that our king must cart you about like a sack? A lumpy sack at that!" Her tail bristled at the hapless Dog and I almost laughed and Yoli let out a little whine of shame.

"Pray bring this silly creature in, King Edmund." She stepped away and I noticed she walked with a pronounced limp. I followed her to one of the open stalls and laid the harrier down on the hay. As I did so some very small, excited voices rose up from the next stall and I turned to see three kittens, tiny and fluffy with wide blue and green eyes, tumble around the barrier and stop in surprise at the sight of me.

Cute and adorable and sweet are words I actively avoid in conversation and everyday life, but there were no other way to describe the three puff balls that faced me, lined up in a row with short tails held high. One was black and white, one was white, and the last was a silver tabby. They could only have been a few weeks old and together they would barely make a handful. I knew I smiling like an idiot as I crouched down before them.

"How do you do, cousins?" I asked softly, glad neither Susan nor Lucy was here to see me fawn over this trio. "My name is Edmund. What's yours?"

They stared at me speechlessly, mouths agape. Mrs. Tibs chuckled. "Thank you, King Edmund, this is the first time today they've been silent. This is Nain, Abigale, and Bellas. Their father is in the army and presently helping patrol the Southern March." Her lisp, a common trait among all the small Cats, was not as pronounced as most.

"Well met, cousins," I said. I looked at their mother. "Can I help you with Yoli?"

"Your assistance would be most welcome, Sire." She turned to the Dog. "What did you do?"

"I caught my paw in a root and sprained it," Yoli muttered, he nose buried in the hay.

"And cut it, too, I see." Mrs. Tibs shook her head, pushing her glasses back on her shallow nose as she leaned over to examine his injury. "My king, could you fetch some water? There is a well behind the stables."

"I know it," I said and took a bucket I spotted. Minutes later I returned dripping wet from the rain and lugging a bucket of water. I helped the lady Cat clean and dress Yoli's sprained foot. I liked Mrs. Tibs. She knew her craft very well and she wasn't above teasing Yoli and giving him an occasional swat in the head (much as I wanted to) when he tried to struggle. Under her direction I helped to wash his paw spread salve Yoli's cut pad and held him still as she wrapped his leg from the knee down. The kittens overcame their fears and ventured closer to watch, the white one going so far as to climb up my tunic for a better look. I could feel tiny, sharp claws moving up my side and I looked down to see a white face looking up at me. I carefully detached her and held her in my hand.

"And what's your name?"

"Abby," she piped, then started purring and rubbing her face on my thumb. Nain and Bellas swarmed up onto my lap, hauling themselves up by their claws. Nain immediately went to sleep. Bellas tried to imitate her sister but got her nails stuck in my belt. I carefully freed her and set both kittens on my knees. Within minutes all three were curled up on top of each other on top of me, fast asleep. Thus pinned, I sat in the hay beside Yoli as Mrs. Tibs cleaned up. The stable reminded me in many ways of the Beaver's lodge, close and crowded and cozy. The floor was hard-packed earth and from racks hung at a Cat's height were dried herbs and medicinal supplies, giving the place a pleasant smell. Small lanterns cast a golden glow on low, cluttered desk set up in the corner and I saw an open ledger and an ink-stained quill lying beside it. There was a scattering of toys about on the floor, balls and mice and feathered things for the kittens. I smiled at the sheer hominess of the place and decided I needed to introduce Lucy to the Tibs family.

"I'm sorry, King Edmund," whispered Mrs. Tibs, walking over to me and noticing her children.

"It's alright," I assured her. Yoli was equally asleep, his paws and nose twitching in a dream, and I kept my voice low. "Have you lived here very long?"

She smiled. "All my life, Majesty." Sitting down beside me, she wrapped her long tail around her feet. "My family has always lived in Cair Paravel. I prefer it out here, though. I like the quiet and the view."

"It is a pretty palace, isn't it?" I asked.

"Better now for the presence of your family. If I may ask, King Edmund, has there been word of your brother at all?"

"No. In a way I wish I had sent some Bats with him, but I think it might be better not knowing what's happening otherwise Oreius would take the whole army and invade the Western Wild every time he ran into a hitch."

"You miss him."

"Terribly." I sighed, then smiled at her. "Thank you for taking care of Yoli."

She shook her head. "He is a silly one, but great hearted and loyal." She stood up and winced as her hip made a small noise. Alarmed, I reached for her, but she shook her head. "No, good my king, it's an old wound that doesn't care for the rain."

"What happened?"

"Maugrim," she answered, giving me a knowing look.

I fought the urge to shudder. "Say no more, good lady. At least his demise makes a worthy title for Peter."

With a smirk and glittering eyes, she nodded. "Indeed. Proof that there is good in everyone."

We both laughed and I shifted the three kittens from my lap to a spot under Yoli's chin. He roused a bit and I held up a warning hand. "You're baby sitting, Yoli. Go back to sleep and don't wake them up." I rose and brushed hay off my clothes. "Thank you again, Mrs. Tibs. I'd best get back before my sisters miss me. Will you send me word on Yoli?"

"Of course, Majesty, and thank you for your help," she said with a bow.

I trudged back up to the palace, receiving odd looks here and there from the guards as I passed. I supposed it was because I was covered with horse and Dog and Cat hair and bits of straw and I smelled to high heaven, but as the main doors of Cair Paravel were opened for me to enter I was greeted by the sight of assembled soldiers. I hurried over to Celer.

"What's wrong?" I demanded.

He took a step back, surprised at the sight of me. "Majesty! You're back!"

"Clearly. What's this about?"

Then I heard high-pitched barking and I knew exactly what had happened: Kep. He had just made it back. I gave the Dachshund a hearty glare as he came bounding into the hall. Hands on my hips, I addressed the Faun beside me as I stared at the little Dog and his wagging tail.

"Let me guess...I was assaulted out in the forest by Giants at least. Yoli went down in my defense, Marsk bolted, and Kep fought them all off and was nearly killed a dozen times."

"Basically," said the Faun captain, adding his glare to mine.

"Kep!" I snapped. "I ordered you to deliver my message and nothing more!"

"But, Majesty," he protested, tail whipping to and fro, "my version was so much more exciting!"

I shook my head, wishing I had the energy to strangle him. "Celer?"

"Yes, King Edmund?"

"Get this Dog out of my sight."

"With pleasure."

Confident that Kep would get the talking-to of a lifetime, I went straight to my room and threw myself on the mercy of Martil and Silvo. They exclaimed over the state (and stink) of my person, but I could tell they were secretly pleased to be faced by a challenge.

"Do either of you know Anthea Tibs?" I asked soon after, up to my waist in hot water as I soaked in the bath tub. They had filled the water with herbs as they attempted to counter the combined smells of horse and Dog. I felt as if I was being made into soup.

Silvo smiled. "Mrs. Tibs is one of Narnia's foremost healers, King Edmund."

"I met her tonight. She was very nice."

"Your majesty knows her sister: Marin, King Peter's page," said Martil, checking for the strongest soap he could lay hands on.

"Ah. One of her kittens looked like Marin, now that you mention it. I'd like to send her a gift for tending Yoli's foot. What would you suggest?"

"I'll speak to Marin," promised Martil. "She'll know best. And now if you'd lean forward, King Edmund."

I obeyed and let out a yelp as he dumped an ewer of warm water over my head before tackling my hair with soap and herbs.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Three days later Lucy accompanied me to the stables and I introduced her to the Tibs family. Of course she immediately adored the kittens as much as they adored her and she sat in the hay and played with them, laughing at their antics. She gave them the presents I had brought, small mice and birds made of fabric that some of Susan's ladies-in-waiting whipped up for me. To Mrs. Tibs I presented three blank, leather bound books and small quills and ink, for Marin assured me her sister's foremost pleasure was writing.

Mrs. Tibs opened one of the books, her orange paws delicately turning the pages. "All this for Yoli, Sire?" she teased.

"Not just for Yoli," I replied. "If there's ever anything I can do for you, please just ask."

She smiled up at me, her green eyes sparkling with pleasure behind her tinted glasses. "Thank you, King Edmund."

"The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Tibs."


	9. Keep the Home Fires Burning

**Keep the Home Fires Burning**

My life became a study in extremes: extreme anxiety, extreme amusement, and extreme pain. Every pleasant event and day was punctuated by agony every night and it was wearing me down like the winter ocean eroded the beaches.

It was Seconday in the fourth week of the month of Twirleaf and that meant dance, music, etiquette, and rhetoric lessons. At least we got them all over with in one shot. I marked the day by managing to make it through all my lessons without nodding off on any of the teachers, as had become a bad habit of late. By now our music teacher had given up on me ever learning to play a musical instrument (for which I was infinitely grateful) and concentrated on teaching me to sing. Without Peter there to distract me I really had nothing better to do than apply myself, and so it was that I was actually learning something. According to the Nymph in charge of voice lessons I had a very good voice and a better ear than Susan and Lucy even if they had a far greater interest in music than I did.

Avalynn, our Giraffe etiquette instructor, was particularly pleased with me when I remembered that one always addressed Okapi males with the title "dane" in front of their names and females with "dant" before theirs. I had no idea why, but that didn't matter. She didn't detail how to tell male Okapi from female, nor had I met one in Narnia to date, but if the need ever arose I was ready to address them in the most civilized manner possible. I also asked her about canine oaths and the gracious lady assured me that swearing by a family member's tail was, for Dogs, even more binding than swearing by their noses. I was hard-pressed not to groan out loud. I knew if I tried it I'd be corrected instantly.

I liked Avalynn for her manners and patience and flawless bearing and because she was the only Giraffe I knew that wore earrings. She worked more with Lucy and Susan than with Peter and me, but I know she was in constant contact with our rhetoric teacher, a stout old Faun named Mathe. He was a master at using a dozen words when one would do and I was fascinated how he could turn clever words into tools and weapons as keen as Shafelm. Even Cheroom acknowledged Mathe as his superior in debate, and he taught Peter and me how to use language in ways we never imagined.

That afternoon I was debating (and losing) with the elderly Faun in his cramped office when a Hummingbird zoomed into the room and around my head, chirping softly. It was only then that I realized I was late for the luncheon Susan had planned to celebrate the betrothal of Sir Giles and his beloved Marion. The Beavers and Tumnus were here for the event and dozens of other friends. Odds were I was the only one that was late.

"I beg your pardon for distracting your majesty from his royal duties," said Mathe, knowing full well I was more upset about having to leave the debate unfinished than about missing yet another party.

I smirked. "I owe you thanks. And I want a re-match. I refuse to accept your argument that dragons live in volcanos. Salamanders, I grant you, that's only natural, but _not_ dragons. Not even fire drakes."

"I look forward to it, King Edmund," he said with a bow and a smile.

I slipped into the party and immediately set about mingling and avoiding Susan's watchful eye. Not for the first time, I was grateful to Mathe for teaching me how to converse about nothing and to make small talk with almost anyone. The ability came easier to my siblings than to me and Lucy hardly needed lessons on how to talk to anything and everything. I swear she could make friends with the salt cellar if she tried. I moved about the room as if I'd been there from the start, making sure to keep Susan across from me at all times. I honestly did not want to get an earful from her right now and so I greeted Giles and Marion enthusiastically.

I knew they had met in Aslan's camp after the Battle of Beruna and I knew Marion was from the Southern Marches, but beyond that I knew almost nothing about the vixen, having met her only once before. She was a very pretty thing, smaller than Giles with much more pronounced black points than he possessed. She had brought about two dozen brothers and sisters, her parents, innumerable cousins, and a huge bull Elk that was the Narnian equvalent of her godfather. Giles was accompanied by his mother, sixteen brothers, eight sisters, and even more cousins. The room was teeming with Foxes, even a couple of Blue and Arctic cousins, and I made no attempt to keep them all straight because they all looked alike.

One thing I will say about Foxes - they are clever conversationalists. I avoided wine because I knew I needed to be on my toes around them. I gradually got the impression that the bachelor Foxes thought of Giles as something as a traitor to their sex even as they tripped over themselves to greet the lovely Marion. One look at Marion's pretty sisters and cousins and I knew they'd get over their conflict by dessert. I eventually ended up sitting with Marion's father and the Blue cousins and the topic was military history and whether or not various breeds of Animals should be allowed their own regiments. Most of us were against the notion. Roth, Marion's father, brought up the successful record of an ancient regiment known as the Cock Fighters, comprised entirely of Roosters. This was the first I'd heard of them and I was very, very hard pressed not to laugh aloud at the notion of armor-plated chickens doing battle. I had an absurd and inappropriate image of small birds pecking at a Giant's ankles. Of course at that moment I spotted Mr. Beaver across the room and I just had to remember how completely silly he had looked in chain mail at Beruna and I snorted into my goblet of water before I could stop myself.

"Excuse me, cousins," I begged with whatever dignity I had remaining and escaped the reception as quickly as manners would allow. I shut myself up in the nearest empty room and laughed myself breathless, clutching my aching chest as I slid down the door to sit on the floor and regain my self control. I was rather taken aback at my own giddiness. I rarely broke down so completely and usually it was over something Peter had done or said. Exhausted, I sat there with my legs outstretched, feeling slightly ridiculous and very glad no one had witnessed my little fit. It would be too hard to explain since I really didn't understand it myself.

Peter. I leaned my head back, knocking my crown askew as I remembered him laughing as he threw Lucy into the waves the day of the anniversary. Then the image in my mind's eye shifted and I remembered him sitting beside me on the balcony, our feet dangling over almost an eighty foot drop as he tried to comfort me. I could feel his embrace when I gave him the knife I'd made, the smooth leather of his jerkin against my chin as he hugged me so tightly and kissed me right on top of my head.

_I love you, Edmund. I'll hurry back. I swear._.

I would never admit it out loud, but I loved it when he kissed me that way. I always had a sense of his absolute love when he did that. It brought me back to that horrible and glorious day this past spring when he had made me a knight and kissed me thus.

And then I realized why I had been laughing, why I had been _able_ to laugh like that.

The feeling of dread was gone. Vanished.

Peter was free. Whatever sense of fear I'd been carrying all these weeks was no longer there. I had actually grown used to the constant sense of anxiety but now that it was removed, it was like having a weight taken off my shoulders. I sat up, snatching my crown off my head before it fell off, and spent a few moments enjoying the overwhelming sense of relief. It was as if I could suddenly breathe again. I had an incredible urge to hug someone, but who could I tell?

Aslan. He and Oreius were the only ones who knew what I had sensed. I felt a burning delight in my chest that had nothing whatsoever to do with the pain of Jadis' curse. I scrambled to my feet and yanked open the door, more excited than I had been in ages. My thoughts were a wild jumble of emotion and thanks to the very Lion I was going to see.

I knew he was coming to the luncheon and I rushed back into the reception hall. The room was quite crowded from the knees down and smelt musky from so many Foxes at once. Lunch was being laid out and I thought I might actually manage to eat something now. Susan looked surprised at my second entrance, then arched an eyebrow at me and smoothed her hair, making it a point to tap her crown.

"Oh!" I clapped my crown back on my head and she smiled, knowing something was up. I was rarely this excited even at the best of times. She'd have the whole story about Peter out of me before midnight, of that I was certain. Well, I didn't mind telling her now that it was a moot point.

Aslan was around the corner of the room, deep in conversation with more Foxes. He looked up as I rounded the corner and in his eyes and expression there was joy equal to what I felt. I stared at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. He knew. He knew exactly what I was going to say and so I didn't have to say anything at all.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Late that night I lay trembling on Susan's bed, my head on her lap as she gently smoothed my sweaty hair. Lucy sat on the floor before me and Aslan, golden and glowing, was beside her. I couldn't stop the small groan of pain that escaped me and I closed my eyes so I didn't have to see the sympathy I knew was there. My body was a battleground for two powerful types of magic and I was paying a heavy price for survival. Tonight was worse than usual for some reason. I think the pain had finally caught up to me because it was nausea that downed me so completely. The cordial had worked - like the Deepest Magic, it couldn't help but work - but I don't think even the cordial was made to heal the same magical wound, over and over again and gradually it was losing the ability to eliminate the pain.

Susan leaned over me and I felt her arms gather me closer. Understanding and tenderness were all I craved and needed right now and fortunately those assembled here had them in abundance. She took my hand in hers and whispered gently to me. I couldn't hear what she said but the sound of her voice was soothing. I pressed my face into her soft robe. The fabric smelled of roses, stirring memories of high summer and how happy we had been before all this had happened. My head ached anew as tears threatened to fall. I would not cry. I would not give Jadis that little bit. Not now, not ever.

Aslan came forward. I could smell his sweet breath and I opened my eyes, unable to hide my misery.

"Sleep, Edmund, my son," he whispered. In his eyes I saw my own pain reflected. "Sleep, brave king, and dream only of the joy you knew today."

His command was my blessing and I gratefully submitted to his words.


	10. Swatting Flies

**Swatting Flies**

There were times when I would have liked very much to burst out of this royal role and tell someone what I thought of them in terms not even the greatest dolt in the world could misunderstand. It wasn't very noble of me, but at times I just didn't care.

I stood in the hall outside the throne room listening to yet another ambassador who somehow thought his liege lord – this time an Archenlander duke who scraped out a living from an estate bordering the Great Desert - was somehow worthy of asking for Susan's hand in marriage. From the sound of it, it seemed she should be thrilled at the prospect of dirt, dust, and camels. I was annoyed because he had waylaid me en route to my dance lesson when official meetings weren't to take place until one o'clock. At the same time I was grateful it was me, not either of my sisters, that he encountered.

Perhaps I was maturing, or perhaps maturity was being thrust upon me, but lately I had become very aware of an odious new phenomenon: suitors. I likened them all to swarming flies. There had been a few coming to Cair Paravel, usually in someone else's name, most of them concentrating their efforts on Peter and Susan as if they would wed someone that couldn't be bothered to ask them personally. After his first shock last year, Peter had learned to smoothly rebuff efforts at forming alliances through marriage. Initially I had been offended at the notion of my sisters being promised to anyone. (That the same thing might happen to me had not occurred yet, I'll admit). Susan and Lucy both seemed far too young until I remembered royalty was often betrothed at ridiculously young ages and, well, we were royalty now. With Peter's absence I was more keenly aware of the regular flow of proposals. I'm not sure what point I actually began to see my sisters as sexual beings (well, Susan, anyway) that would grow up and marry and have children, but I found myself territorial and defensive of them both. I certainly didn't want them leaving Narnia and I knew Peter felt the same way.

And I certainly didn't want them treated like trinkets at a fair. Not by any male alive.

Peter had a distinct expression and certain sigh he used whenever situations like this arose. The expression was narrow-eyed and disgusted, the sigh was to summon his patience. I unconsciously imitated him at that moment. I hadn't realized that being a king would be similar to being a school master responsible for swatting people down and putting them in their place. I had to think that we monarchs had much better things to do with our time than reprimanding petty ambassadors and noblemen. There had to be a way to break them of this annoying habit of constantly asking us to marry them, their children, or their masters.

"I'll remind you, sir, that my sister is thirteen years old," I hinted sternly. He seemed to think I actually had the authority to marry Susan off.

"And so soon a woman," he countered smoothly.

That was certainly not the kind of observation to win my regard. I was already resolved to complain to King Lune about this embassy. We had better things to do with our time than entertain people like this.

"And what is that to _you_?" I demanded coldly. I glared at him and snapped, "That is my royal sister of whom you speak and not some daughter of a petty noble desperate for connections in court. Quite the reverse in fact, given what I've learned of your master since your arrival. My siblings and I are not bargaining points for a treaty or commodities to be bartered, we are our own persons. Queen Susan rules Narnia in her own name and in her own right. She will choose her consort in due time, not have him chosen for her."

I will admit to a certain pleasure at lashing out at this man. It seemed the most effective way of dealing with him, annoying nuisance that he was, and somehow my words flowed as smoothly as water when I was riled. He'd been here two days, bowing, scraping, eating a lot, and watching the palace women – my sisters included – with assessing, hungry eyes, all the while unaware he was being monitored at every turn. His welcome was already worn out. He didn't even have the virtue of being clever or witty and his gifts had been commonplace. I decided it was time to exercise my authority as King of Narnia.

I glanced at the shadows to check the approximate time. "What luck, Ambassador! It's two hours before noon! You have until then to pack your things."

"Majesty?" he gaped, taken aback.

I smiled my most charming smile. Clearly he had envisioned a long and fattening visit, which he hardly needed. "At that time, sir, a military escort will arrive at your rooms to usher you and your party back to the Archenland border. Please don't return until you learn manners and the proper respect towards all women, from queens to maids to crones, be they plant or animal."

"B-But, King Edmund!"

"Your conduct towards the ladies of Narnia has been infamous and shameful and unbecoming a gentleman. Such things are not tolerated here. Women stand on equal footing with men in Narnia and you would do well to remember that."

He was beyond astonished. I nodded to the guards outside the throne room in case he tried anything foolish and summoned a waiting page. A Magpie flew up, landing on my raised fist and bowing deeply.

"Jeric, please advise Captain Cloudcaster that the Archenland embassy of ten men and servants is leaving at noon and they require an armed escort of fourteen soldiers and one officer to see them safely over the border of their own country. They can meet him at his chambers." Jeric flew off and I motioned to one of the Satyrs at the door. "Please see the ambassador safely to his rooms and send word for his party to be found and likewise escorted to their chambers to help pack. Good day."

I walked away from the flabbergasted Archenlander, sensing the man's indignation and my subjects' amusement, and joined my sisters in the throne room. We had moved our dance lesson to here while the banquet room we normally used was still being cleaned of Fox hair. A Faun musician was setting up in the corner and our dance teacher was measuring the floor with her long strides.

"Ed?" wondered Susan, stepping close. That I was up to something was evident.

"Just cleaning up the Cair a bit, Su," I assured her. Before she could respond the teacher clapped her hands for us to start the lesson. I smirked as I bowed over Susan's hand as we started the first dance, feeling rather smug.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"You _what_?"

"Threw him out of Narnia," I repeated. "It's my country, too!"

"We never even saw him!" protested Susan, though I knew she wasn't angry.

Lucy giggled, then tried to keep a straight face with little success. We were seated at our evening meal, just the three of us, in our private chambers. Though he was always welcome and his presence was a joy, Aslan occasionally gave us time entirely to ourselves. I don't know how he knew, but he always seemed to sense when we needed to talk unencumbered by the presence of our elders. This was such a night. I was picking at my food. I noticed that we were being served far more of my favorite dishes than usual and I knew my sisters were trying to get me to eat more. I tried, but my stomach was staging a rebellion.

"Susan, he was rude and a letch. He treated you like something that he could buy for his petty duke that couldn't even show up himself and address you. I won't stand for that. You're my sisters and you're both heads of state, not bargaining chips."

I expected Susan to say something more, but instead she only leaned back in her chair, staring at me for a moment before pouring me more wine. Finally she smiled and said simply, "Thank you, Edmund."

"The pleasure was mine, believe me." I nibbled on some bread. "Especially since Cloudcaster picked fourteen male soldiers under Xati to escort them out."

They laughed at the notion of the tough, fiery Centaur officer ordering her men and the ambassador about. Oh, that poor Archenlander was in for the lesson of a lifetime! I'll admit it was an image I cherished.

"I have been thinking about something, though," I continued.

"What?" wondered Lucy.

"Well...I expect some day we'll all get married. At least you two," I added hastily, hoping to forestall any ideas they might get. Susan smirked knowingly. Lucy giggled again as she dumped another slice of roast on my plate when I was looking at our sister, proving my theory that they were conspiring against my lack of appetite. "Anyway...Narnia doesn't want any more queens than you two and she certainly doesn't need any more kings. I think we should make a law that whomever one of us marries will have the title of king consort or queen consort or royal consort or some such. Maybe prince or princess, but not king or queen. That way, at least, all these declarations of love that come pouring in will be thinned out a bit when they figure out they won't be crowned heads. And hopefully the girls will get less obnoxious about marrying Peter, once they find out they'll never be the High King's queen."

They were silent for a moment, staring at me, and I thought perhaps they might hate the suggestion. Then Susan lowered her silverware with a faint metallic ring. "Edmund Randall Pevensie, you are brilliant," she said with a grin.

"You hide it well," added Lucy just so I could glower at her, which I did to make us both happy.

"It's a very good idea and you're right, it will thin out the ranks of marriage proposals."

I attacked the slice of meat, knowing I had to eat more and figuring Peter was probably longing for anything half so delicious. "I'll work on it with Cheroom tomorrow. It can be my first law."

Susan raised her wine in a toast. "To our consorts."

"Whoever they are," added Lucy.

I tapped my goblet against theirs, glad they embraced my idea, and finished, "Aslan's blessing upon them, and us, and our High King."

_Wherever he may be, _I thought, and downed the wine.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I should _not_ have eaten so much.

It was closing on midnight and I was walking the corridors of Cair Paravel with Aslan, my stomach aching and nausea making me feel as if I might be sick at any moment. I had drunk some foul tea the healer gave me to little avail and so now I roamed the halls and wished I could curl up into a ball and have this all just go away. I sank my hand into the Lion's mane, thinking of how we in Narnia swore by this mane or those claws or that mighty roar with such reverence and yet here he was walking alongside me. Though true he was not a tame Lion, Aslan was at the moment the most tender and gentle of beasts. He was silent and supporting and exactly what I needed at that moment. I wondered if he could love me as much as I loved him.

I paused, my stomach threatening to heave. I flinched, my free hand automatically going to the wound and my other hand closing on a hank of mane. Aslan stopped as well, waiting until I drew a shuddering breath as the spasm eased. I leaned against him and he braced himself for my slight weight, a deep purr rising in his throat.

"Aslan," I asked quietly, hating myself for doubting. Every night around this time anxiety and anticipation stripped away my courage. I so overwhelmed with misery that I couldn't keep my misgivings at bay as I waited once again to be made the human sacrifice on Jadis' altar. "Will Peter make it?"

He seemed to look beyond me for a moment, then he said, "I would not have sent him unless I had every faith that he would be successful."

I sniffed, blaming the tears that threatened to escape in the nausea gripping me. "I know. It...just...hurts. I wish it would end."

"Do not despair, Edmund," whispered Aslan, his eyes full of understanding. "Know that he loves you and will not rest until you are freed."

"I miss him," I admitted, the thought of my brother giving me comfort in the face of despair.

"And he misses you and thinks of you always. For his sake, you must endure and believe. Come. It is almost midnight. Your sisters are waiting."

I sighed and continued down the hall. A few steps later I paused and looked behind me. I thought I had sensed...

I shook my head. It must have been my imagination.


	11. Dream Dasher

Many thanks to Palomnus, proofreader to his Majesty.

_**Dream Dasher**_

Cheroom was delighted with my desire to write a law and he threw me into the process wholeheartedly. I soon learned that what I really wanted was a decree, since laws affect all of Narnia and what I wanted to do impacted only on the royal family. He said if I moved quickly I could present the decree when I opened Parliament this year.

Opening Parliament was a ridiculously simple ceremony. I basically had to show up and nod my head, but it made the members very happy and their discussions were very informative when they stayed on topic. Parliament actually had the feel of belonging to a club of scholars. Though not an official body, they were highly respected and their opinion carried some weight. Comprised entirely of Owls of every type and size, they rarely accomplished anything in just one meeting, preferring to drag things out so as to enjoy debating a subject as long as possible. They were not the best people to turn to for snap decisions, but at least they gave our court an annual excuse to trot out all their finery.

This gave me little over a week to research and write what eventually became known as the _Codex Consors. _I think Peter's name for the decree was more fitting: the _Dream Dasher_. In later years, when suitors and proposals flowed into Narnia for _all_ of our hands in marriage, we'd send the party a chamberlain armed with an official copy of the _Codex Consors. _Half the time the next thing we'd hear was a wail of disappointment or screams of disbelief and fury. More than once a princess just packed up and departed without ever having seen us. It certainly helped weed out the men and women whose only interest was a title and a crown, and those that did stay were generally considerably better company than those that left.

Aslan joined us as we researched previous laws and decrees and customs and his suggestions were extremely helpful since no one knew Narnia's laws better than he. I was glad of the distraction away from everything else pressing upon me, for this project required all of my energy and attention. Oreius had freed me from training on Sixthday now, insisting I needed more rest after he flattened me with one blow the day before. He had been upset and felt guilty, I could tell, but it had been towards the end of my lesson and I had simply been tired out.

Minovin, the court recorder, and Irel, our chief librarian, were in their tome-loving glory as Cheroom sent them hither and yon throughout the library collecting relevant books and scrolls. My problem wasn't the research, but keeping my mind focused. I was getting side-tracked constantly, for the laws and the court system were fascinating to me. I was learning a great deal, which I suppose was the point, and I was constantly marking books for future reference. The books were lovely things, all of them hand written and bound in leather and cloth, many of them illuminated. They had a sharp scent of parchment and age, like incense, and I could understand the old Hedgehog's passion for each and every volume.

Lucy came by one morning with some of her ladies. She was attended by Dryads and Nymphs and a delicate little Doe that harbored an immense crush on Oreius that everyone in the palace except the general knew about. My sister delighted to see Aslan and was thrilled at the beautiful books. Minovin showed her the far reaches of the library where they were stored and where, I was sure, Lucy had never ventured. I could hear her excited voice echoing off the walls and I smiled. Her enthusiasm for everything under the sun was nothing short of amazing.

"Edmund, what if Peter doesn't agree with your decree?" she asked a few minutes later, leaning against my chair where I sat close to the fire.

"Trust me, he'll agree. Remember that little redheaded duchess from Terebinthia that was practically measuring Susan's throne for a new cushion? He'll be on his knees thanking me for this. Besides, he's outvoted."

She giggled and before I could escape she leaned over the arm of the chair and kissed my cheek. "See you at supper! Don't push yourself too hard."

"Yes, Mum," I muttered, smirking.

By the third day of work I had a rough outline of what I wanted the decree to say. I had no idea the process was so complex. In the books I'd read growing up royal decrees and proclamations were things that got issued effortlessly. Fiction, it seemed, had grossly understated the facts. After establishing there was nothing similar or contradictory in the records in Cair Paravel I had to weigh and consider every single word. Cheroom called Mathe in to help since Narnia did not have anything like a dictionary and the old rhetoric teacher knew every nuance to every word ever spoken. The Centaur insisted the document had to be perfect if I was going to attach my name to it and I had to agree, though I was sure I could also anticipate being roundly hated by disappointed potential mates of both sexes.

Something to look forward to, I supposed.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Lucy frowned at the parchment in her hand, her lips moving as she silently read. Susan leaned over her shoulder, sipping her tea as she considered our future in my written words. I waited silently, watching for their reactions.

"So...what does it mean?" my little sister finally asked.

"It means if you married, oh, say, Neth, the River God's son, he wouldn't be King Neth but the Royal Consort to Queen Lucy and we'd probably make him a duke and give him all sorts of titles. But," Susan explained, "if you marry the Tisroc he'll stay the Tisroc but he'll never rule Narnia as a king."

"Wouldn't he rule as a Tisroc?"

"Only in Calormen," I replied.

Susan looked up. "You spelt 'whereas' incorrectly, Ed."

I rolled my eyes, secretly pleased that was the worst criticism I'd receives so far.

"What if one of us should...die?" asked Susan.

I frowned. I hadn't thought about death, which was surprising in a way since at the moment I was the most likely candidate for it among us.

"Next draft," I promised.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I looked up at a flash of gray and a Hummingbird shot across my vision and circled round to land on my shoulder. She startled me completely and at first I didn't hear her message.

"Come again, cousin?"

The bird's tiny voice was barely audible. "King Edmund, Queen Susan asks what if your majesties have gone to war against enemies of Narnia? Would the spouses then assume the duties of king and queen?"

A very good question. I thought for a moment then said, "Tell her no, only if they were appointed as regent."

The Hummingbird was gone as swiftly as she had arrived. I never even noticed. I was too busy amending the decree.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"What about if we have children?"

I shuddered. Figuring out who would rule after us was going to be a nightmare, one I wasn't prepared to deal with quite yet. Say in perhaps twenty years, maybe. "Let's just stick with this for now, Lucy."

She frowned at the parchment. "You only say Aslan's name twice."

I picked up my quill to correct the oversight. "How many times would you like to see him mentioned in the despatches?"

"Four. Once for each of us." She smiled at me and I shook my head and smiled back. She was immensely pleased with herself.

"Four times it is then, Lu."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

While I was concentrating on my first decree I certainly wasn't ignoring my other duties. I still trained in the mornings, went to classes, and performed my royal duties. We held receptions and received all types of ambassadors and squeezed in time for ourselves and sleep and fun. Once a week my sisters and I met with the Dwarfs planning the port at Kellsalter to review their plans. Their progress was astounding and I expected by spring they would begin building.

The first day of the annual harvest was marked by great festivities. In accordance with custom everyone, and I do mean everyone, in Cair Paravel went out to the orchards to help pick apples and pears and quince and all kinds of fruits and winter gourds and even nuts. Lucy borrowed one of my tunics and leggings so she could climb the trees with more ease. That set off a trend. Susan asked to borrow some of Peter's things and when some of the more daring ladies-in-waiting expressed an interest I ordered Silvo to open our closets to them. Peter certainly wasn't using any of his clothes now and the ladies thought it was all great fun to be dressed like kings. From sun up to sun down we labored in the fields alongside the Dryads and Animals and every soldier that didn't have guard duty at the moment, maids and servants and local residents and volunteers from afar that wanted to help and celebrate the harvest. Everyone worked according to their abilities, from the Sparrows to the Giants to Aslan, and we spent the day singing and laughing and gathering enough food to see us through the winter. The fruits would be dried and preserved in various ways and the first baskets of apples were whisked away to the palace kitchens to be made into pies and tarts and other sweets in time for supper. It was all great fun and very tiring. I was sorry Peter missed it and seeing his wardrobe gracing the ladies of the court.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Parliament was a day away when I finished the decree to the satisfaction of all parties involved. I was in the library with Aslan, Cheroom, and Mathe when I was finally able to read:

_"Whereas the Four Kings and Queens of Narnia: High King Peter the Magnificent, Queen Susan the Gentle, King Edmund the Just, and Queen Lucy the Valiant, by grace of Aslan, son of the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea, were crowned joint Sovereigns of that land and its holdings in the year 1000,_

_And whereas Jadis, self-proclaimed Queen of Narnia and tyrant, was overthrown in accordance with the Prophesy that foretold the coming of said Kings and Queens,_

_And whereas the presence of the Four chosen Kings and Queens, enthroned in Cair Paravel, stand as a bastion against Evil's rebirth or resurrection in the land of Narnia, _

_Be it known that Four was the number of Sovereigns chosen by Aslan, beloved Creator and Protector of the land of Narnia, to rule in his blessed name and grace. The number of Sovereigns shall neither be increased nor yet decreased (except upon death) either by marriage, birth, or subsequent decree, proclamation, law, or order, except upon express command of Aslan himself. _

_Therefore, upon marriage to one of the Four Kings and Queens, their spouse shall be known by the title of Royal Consort to said Sovereign. The Royal Consorts shall not at any time be considered Sovereigns of the land of Narnia, nor shall they be afforded the title of king or queen, nor shall they be eligible to assume the throne in the absence of their spouse. If they be of royal blood by birth, they shall retain their rightful titles, but shall not gain authority over the land of Narnia, and they will not be crowned Sovereigns to rule in their own name. _

_By the blessing of Aslan, and with the consent of his fellow Sovereigns present, this Decree is hereby put forth by King Edmund the Just in the year 1001 and shall remain in effect until such time as the last of the Four Kings and Queens passes from the Land of Narnia." _

For something so short it had been a remarkable amount of work, but I was very satisfied with the document and it gave me a great feeling of accomplishment. Aslan smiled at me, clearly pleased by my efforts, and his approval warmed me in ways the fire couldn't.

"So what do you think?" I asked my audience. I had rewritten it so many times I had it memorized.

"I think it is both wise and far sighted," Mathe replied. "I also think the need for handkerchiefs amongst our guests will triple once it becomes known."

We all laughed because everyone knew full well why I had written the decree in the first place.

"Now what?" I asked the Centaur, looking up at him expectantly.

"You and your sisters must affix your seals to it and have it officially recorded by Minovin. It's not necessary for Parliament to approve it, but traditionally they are given an opportunity to discuss new laws and decrees."

I nodded. "I'll show my sisters tonight and present it tomorrow night when I open Parliament. Thank you all very, very much for your help."

Cheroom, well aware of my desire to become a judge and determined to see me one before I turned twenty, smiled and bowed. "The pleasure, King Edmund, was all ours."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Martil adjusted the heavy gold clasp holding my cape in place in a frenzy of fussing before nervously circling around me for a final look. Apparently no errant bits of dust had appeared since the last time he'd checked about a minute ago and he finally stepped away.

"How do you feel, King Edmund?"

I looked down at Sir Giles standing next to me as we waited in the corridor. In all my royal finery and new clothes I looked like an oversized Christmas ornament. The cape felt weighty enough to pull me over backwards and I had enough embroidery on my person to make a tapestry. "Like the Queen of May. How do you feel?"

"Both honored and excited, Your Majesty."

"Thank you again for presenting my decree tonight."

He smiled, immensely pleased I had asked him. "I hope I do your words justice."

"I know you will, Sir Fox," I said as Tumnus darted around the corner.

"It's time, King Edmund."

"Thank you, Mr. Tumnus."

I nodded to the Satyrs at the doors and they pulled them open. The great hall was glittering and golden, lit by candles and lamps and by Aslan himself where he stood on the far end next to the chair I was to occupy throughout the ceremony opening Narnia's Parliament. I was aware of bright jewels and brilliant gowns, tawny feathers and Animals and Magical Creatures of all sorts as Cair Paravel's court turned out in all their finery. Susan and Lucy sat with their ladies and Vixen Marion, smiling upon me. And Owls, hundreds of Owls, bright-eyed and knowing.

So much wisdom, in so many forms, and for that instant all of it focused on me.

"Ready, Giles?" I whispered.

"As I'll ever be, Majesty."

I raised my head, the weight of my crown as heavy as the weight of their stares. I kept my eyes on Aslan. With each step towards him the burden seemed to grow less and less. When I bowed to the mighty Lion, seeing those huge paws that had held me so tenderly these past nights, I was reminded of something Phillip had said to me last year:

_You are greater than you know, Edmund. Aslan's faith is not misplaced, nor is mine._

I looked up at Aslan. Both Lion and Horse had faith in me, my brother and sisters as well. For the first time in a very long time, so did I.


	12. Lion Chapel

My thanks to Almyra for allowing me to borrow the Cair's chapel! I've lifted it directly from her most excellent story 'For Ever Kneel'd.' If you haven't read her stories, you should!

**Lion Chapel**

Ten weeks had slowly passed since Peter departed into the Western Wild. It felt like much, much longer to me, especially now that I didn't have anything as interesting as a royal decree to distract me. Being torn apart nightly by magical means was taking its toll. I had lost weight and I was always cold. For some reason my body decided now was a good time for a growth spurt and my legs ached with pain as I gradually grew taller. In simpler terms, I was perfectly miserable.

Aslan was with me almost constantly from the moment the sun set. At first I didn't notice, but he was spending more time with me at night because I started having trouble sleeping when nightmares began to plague me. Perhaps it was her blood in me, growing restless and working its evil, but I was having the most vivid and graphic dreams of the White Witch. Memories of events I had worked hard to forget wormed their way to the forefront of my mind as soon as I drifted asleep and I was made to relive my time with her over and over again. Some nights I saw more - unspeakable things Jadis had done deep in the past, flashes of barren mountains and bones and a cold red sun. That last terrified me more than anything else my nightmares showed me. I would wake up looking desperately for Peter and then fear would be replaced with the crushing disappointment of loneliness.

Getting up wasn't much better. I was so miserable I couldn't even be beastly in the mornings like usual. I just dragged myself upright and got down to the training grounds. There were fewer officers and teachers now - Oreius dismissed them until Peter returned simply because he didn't want word to get out that I was less than capable of leading the army. I threw myself into swordsmanship whole-heartedly and I was willing to exhaust myself for the rest of the day by keeping pace with my teachers. Training was the greatest outlet for my fears and frustrations and Oreius and Celer knew it.

One frustration amongst the many was my sword. Shafelm, Blade of the Western Wood - if not Rhindon's brother than its first cousin - had been presented to me by the Centaurs under my command before the Battle of Beruna. Though I thought the world of this blade, I was growing and it was not. Oreius, however, refused to allow me another.

"What?" I demanded, standing in the middle of the courtyard like some petulant toddler about to throw a tantrum. "Why not?"

He folded his arms and looked down at me with that fathomless calm and patience that sometimes made me want to scream. "Sir Edmund, Shafelm will do very well for you right now. You are exhausted. A larger sword will weigh more than your arm can bear."

"It will make me stronger!" I argued.

"Majesty," he countered, "a heavier sword will only exhaust you further in your present condition."

Meaning I was even more deteriorated than I believed. Despite myself, I glowered. Oreius returned the look. I lost.

Celer was smiling as he brought me a goblet. "Pick your battles, Sir Edmund. _Here_," and he waved a hand at the courtyard, "every battle is fought up hill."

"So I'm learning," I grumbled, taking the goblet. I drank a large mouthful and almost choked, expecting water and not mulled wine. I swallowed and coughed, glaring at Celer as I wiped my mouth. He had the good grace to look guilty, realizing he'd handed me the wrong cup.

To top off my aggravation, Cheroom decided to cut out my evening classes. Usually they were only an hour or so long but they made up for time lost to sleep and training to be a soldier. He said he didn't want to overburden me. I argued long and loud, but arguing with a Centaur is like arguing with a rock. I usually ended up in the library instead, reading the books I had marked for further research and talking to Irel and Aslan.

I know my teachers meant well and they were probably right, but I didn't want to be coddled. I had always been the kind of person that had to learn lessons for myself. I'd rather have the heavier sword and exhaust myself and I'd rather continue classes far into the night until I couldn't remember anything I'd learned. Routine was all I had now. Routine, nightmares, and a lot of pain.

Seventhday dawned cold and too wet to go riding. Besides, I'd just get harassed by the Dogs if I tried it. After breakfast with Aslan and my sisters I returned to my room and added another layer of clothes to what I already wore. I took the clothes from Peter's closet partially because they fit better as an outer layer and partially because I just wanted something of him with me. While I was in his closet I also hid half the shoes all about the room and took his crown. Making sure the rooms were empty, I snuck into my own chambers and hung the gold crown in the far reaches of my own closet. That would keep Silvo busy for a day or so. He'd been looking glum lately and it would give him a chance to lecture me later.

I planned to spend the day exploring. Cair Paravel was huge and had hundreds of rooms and even after a year I wasn't certain I'd seen them all. When Peter and I did this we picked a direction and decided up or down and just went that way. After a few minutes deciding, I headed east and down.

"Edmund!"

Lucy. She'd spotted me. As I turned I to her realized that I really did want company. I waited as she rushed down the stairs and I smiled despite myself because she really was turning into a very pretty thing. People always say Susan was the beauty of the family, but Lucy struck me as being beautiful in a completely different and more enduring way.

"Where are you going?" she asked, a little out of breath.

"Exploring the palace."

"Can I come?"

"Course. It might be cold, though."

She looked down at her velvet dress with a little frown. Then she brightened. "I'll ask to borrow the cook's cloak. Come on!"

Seizing my hand, she dragged me into the kitchens. We greeted everyone and Lucy asked to borrow a cloak. One of the Dwarf chefs volunteered his own cape and moments later she was enveloped in wool and fur. Thus prepared, we set out.

Since the eastern side of the Cair faces the both the rising sun and Aslan's Country there was in incredible number of stained glass windows facing that direction. We found many pretty rooms that stood empty or were used for storage. One room was completely lined by full suits of armor for all kinds of Animals and Creatures, set up on wooden stands. I looked, but I didn't see anything that might fit a Rooster. Lucy found a helmet for a Giant. It was so huge she could sit curled up inside it, and her giggles echoed. When she came out I fitted her with a helmet for a Dwarf and she giggled even more.

"How can you hear out of these?" she wondered.

"You get used to it. Here." I put the visor down and she grouped about blindly.

"I can hardly see!"

"You get used to that, too. Besides, Peter and I use different style helmets from _this_."

We left the old armory and headed further down. The next room that held our attention was filled with tapestries of all sizes. They were very dusty and we both got dirty and sneezed uncontrollably as we unrolled some. They were brilliantly colored and beautifully done, showing scenes of Narnia's history. Lucy was particularly ecstatic over one she found of Aslan done in glittering gold thread. At my suggestion we laid that one in the hall and I told her we could have the weavers clean and restore it for her room.

I was starting to get hungry and I was about to suggest we turn back when Lucy pushed open another door and let out a little gasp. Though she didn't sound frightened I hurried over and looked past her into the room and I could understand her reaction. I eased the door wider and gave her a little push into the chamber so we could both see it better.

It was a long, rectangular room, not very wide but well-proportioned and with a high, vaulted roof with lines that interwove to make geometric designs like flowers. Several gilded rosettes adorned the points of the vaults with hooks for hanging lamps. My eyes moved downwards to carvings along the edge of the ceiling like lace made out of stone. Opposite us, at the far end of the room, a few steps rose up to a dais and on the wall behind it was a tall, arched window. Though the day was overcast I could tell that when the sun shone the room would be filled with golden light. Even to my untrained eyes I could tell the glass in the window was older than most other stuff here in the Cair. It had a distinct yellowish cast to it.

I felt Lucy's hand curl around mine and I drew her in closer to my side as we gazed about us. A candelabrum, taller than either of us, stood off to the side. My time with the Blue River Dwarfs had given me a great appreciation for metalwork and I could tell it was masterfully made, elegant and intricate and in need of a good cleaning.

"It's beautiful," whispered Lucy.

I nodded, unable to form an answer, imagining the room as . . . what? It was serene in here, a place for comfortable silence and thought. A refuge from the world of kings and courts and suitors.

"Edmund!" Lucy exclaimed, her eyes aglow. "We could make this a chapel!"

That was the word I wanted. I continued to gaze about me as she went on.

"We could clean it and - and the tapestries! We could hang them or have some made! That's it!"

I pointed. "There are hooks for lamps."

Eyes wide with delight, she nodded, still gripping my hand as she turned around. "We can clean it and have seats and carpets and candles and oh! Look how pretty the door is!"

I looked. It was heavy, carved oak with beautiful iron hinges reaching across its width.

"And it can be just for us," finished Lucy. "We can come here to be alone and pray. It even looks towards Aslan's Country!"

I blinked. It hadn't occurred to me that any of us might want a place to _go_ to pray. I normally prayed wherever and whenever the desire or need arose. She gazed up at me with all the patience of an indulgent sister.

"Every king, queen, or noble knight needs a place to go and pray," she said firmly. "Didn't you pray before you were knighted?"

I snorted, recalling rogue Animals and Hags and Boggles and a whole pantheon of Fell Beasts, all of whom tried their best to kill me and Peter that day. "Who had time? We were fighting to stay alive, Lu. But you're right." I looked up at the vaulted ceiling, imagining glowing lamps and the warmth of summer spilling into the chamber. "This would make a very good chapel."

Her smile was nothing short of dazzling. "Let's go tell Susan!"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Susan delicately lifted her skirt to step into Lucy's chapel and let out a little exclamation of, "Oh!" Dropping her skirt, she looked around in wide-eyed delight. I turned to Aslan, wondering how he could possibly fit through the door, but he just shook his mane and slid through the portal effortlessly. He smiled at my confusion and joined the girls in the center of the room.

"What do you think?"

"It's so beautiful!" breathed Susan, transfixed by the intricate carvings.

"Wouldn't it make a wonderful chapel?" pressed Lucy.

Susan nodded, her eyes filled with delight at the notion. I wandered too close to her and she seized my hand. "Oh, Ed, what do you say?"

I followed her gaze to the ceiling. "I wish Lucy had thought about this months ago."

"I know what you mean!" She smiled and squeezed my hand. "Well, Lucy?"

"Tapestries," answered Lucy, indicating a blank stretch of wall. I could tell she was thrilled that we approved her idea. I knew the feeling. "And here and here and here. Maybe by the door, too. And the carpet the Tisroc sent us for the anniversary right here." She paced the floor around Aslan.

I pulled free of Susan and went to examine the candelabrum. "Another one of these would be nice. Two would balance out the arch."

Susan leaned close and blew at the dusty metal. There was a gleam of gold underneath. "_Can_ another be made?"

"It's Dwarfish," I said, unconcerned. "If we can't find another in the Cair I'll challenge Brickit to make one just like it. When he's done you won't be able to tell which one is the original, Su."

Lucy stood before the Lion, smiling. "What do you think, Aslan?"

He purred. "I think it's a very good idea, Dear Heart, and all the better because it can be a refuge and sanctuary for each of you when you desire peace."

If that was the case, I wondered if any of them would mind if I just moved in.


	13. Tears Like Rain

Once again, the idea of a chapel in Cair Paravel is borrowed (with permission) from Almyra's wonderful story 'For Ever Kneel'd.'

Also, I've taken some liberties with Narnia's geography and placed Galma further away than a day's sail.

**Tears Like Rain**

I didn't have as much time as I would have liked to help Lucy set up the chapel. From the start Peter and I had attended more classes than our sisters and up until now that never bothered me. Still, I spent what time there I could, helping to clean out the spiders and dust and searching high and low for just the right furnishings. The one candelabrum I helped pack up and ship to the Blue River Smithy. It went accompanied by several barrels of wine, a bar of gold for gilding, and a very scathing letter. I made certain to stress to Bricket that I knew several competent smiths in the area if the challenge of reproducing a candlestick was too great for him, a sure-fire way to get a second candelabrum in record time.

The subject of tapestries for the chapel became a trying one almost instantly. Susan suggested we might have new tapestries made depicting our arrival and overthrow of the White Witch and called on the Cair's legion of weavers. They readily, happily agreed to make new hangings, estimating the whole project would take a little over two years if they all applied themselves. It sounded very nice, but the truth was before they could begin to weave they needed a painting to work off and that meant sketches and posing and standing still for hours on end. Choosing a scene, Lucy decided my defining moment was when I broke Jadis' wand. I suppose it was, but I really didn't feel like being reminded of the event while the sun was shining. My nightly re-enactment was quite sufficient to keep the episode in mind.

That made no difference to the artists that followed my every move from the moment I opened my bedroom door to the moment I went to sleep. For days two Nymphs and a Faun trailed behind me making sketches. Every time I looked up, there they were, pencils scratching. They were particularly excited when I was on the training ground and one day I went into the armory and found my armor was gone. After a few minutes of panic I discovered my artistic shadows had 'borrowed' it so the weavers could match the colors. Later that same day I found myself stuffed back into said armor, holding Shafelm in a sufficiently dramatic and heroic pose. My sisters were there to watch and it wasn't Susan stern look, but the possibility of extinguishing the delight in Lucy's eyes that kept me from losing my cool. An angry Susan I could deal with, but a sad Lucy was something I never wanted to cause again. For her, I endured and held the blade high over an imagined wand in a reconstruction where the only similarity to the actual event was the presence of me and my sword.

"If you keep making that face, Edmund, that's what they're going to paint," Susan admonished as one of the artists re-arranged my feet. Again.

I had seen some of the tapestries produced here at the Cair and they were astonishingly detailed. Indeed, many of them looked like paintings, so she did have a point.

"It'll be accurate, at least!" I muttered. I didn't want to admit that I felt ridiculous standing like this.

At the end of a few days, though, the artists had their sketches and it was Susan's turn to be harassed. She eventually ended up holding her bow drawn for so long that she pulled a muscle in her shoulder. Having had more than my fair share of pulled muscles, I refrained from gloating and even managed to drum up some sympathy for her.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I was feeling supremely unwell the day Susan strained her shoulder. I wasn't sure what it was that bothered me. A little bit of everything, I suppose, but mostly a sense of absolute and overwhelming fatigue. Nonetheless, I sat upon my throne as Mr. Tumnus called out the day's business. It was all minor, internal stuff, and to my relief we dealt with everything quickly. We were about to withdraw when a last-minute addition to the agenda was added. Moments later, a shimmering black Cormorant was announced. He waddled in on his short legs with his wings spread for balance. With a little trill he bowed to us each, bobbing his head as he turned his body. I was pleased to note he bowed to Peter's empty throne with as much respect as he bowed to the occupied ones.

"Greetings, good cousin," said Lucy. I didn't need to look to know she was smiling at the Bird. Her voice betrayed her. "Welcome to Cair Paravel. What is your name and your business?"

"Astrad is my name, good my queen. I am in the employ of wise Duke Banet of Galma. He bids me send warmest greetings to Your Majesties and hopes that you are blooming. He has dispatched the ship _Gloriosa _for Narnia with the promised tutors in nautical craft. The captain of the _Gloriosa_, Lord Ilano, expects to make landfall here at Cair Paravel tomorrow. After delivering the tutors, he begs leave to re-supply his ship for the homeward journey, which he must make immediately, weather permitting."

Lucy smiled. "The _Gloriosa_ and her crew will be welcome. We'll feast the crew tomorrow and we'll be sure the captain has all the supplies he needs for his return."

With a low bow the Cormorant thanked her. He bobbed his head politely to us each again before departing. Susan and Lucy were smiling in anticipation. If I remembered correctly, Susan had found Ilano handsome when he had brought the Galman ambassadors here for the anniversary celebration. I must have looked as awful as I felt because when Susan looked over at me, her smile faded and she very quickly ended the session. I stood up and felt myself go pale.

"Ed?" whispered Susan, worried.

"Walk with me," I said with a wane smile, and she knew I needed help badly.

Lucy sent a Cat ahead and Silvo and Martil met us on the long stairs leading up to our private quarters. The two Fauns quickly stationed themselves on either side of me and helped me up the stairs. The next thing I knew for certain was I was on Peter's bed and Lucy was looking very frightened. For her sake I smiled slightly.

"Don't worry, Lu," I murmured. "M'just tired s'all."

Well, that and faint and hungry and feeling as if I didn't have the strength to move ever again. Susan helped Martil pull a blanket over me and even that seemed enough to pin me in place. My sisters each kissed my cheek and I heard Susan tell the valets to stay with me. Then I slipped into darkness.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_I dreamt I was walking through a winter forest. There was hardly a leaf on a tree. Swamp maples and tulip trees, elders and beeches, sweet pepper and witch hazel, all stripped bare like skeletons. Dusk was nearing and it was pouring rain. It had been raining for days, for the thick layer of loam beneath the fallen leaves was spongy and wet. I could smell rotting leaves and the stink of churned mud. Except for the rain, there was no sound._

_No, wait. I heard a faint sound like a gasp, a gulping, pained sound. In my dream I turned toward the noise. As I did I saw indistinct tracks in the mud and leaves. I followed them, for they lead in the direction of the gasp. I was watching the ground when I noticed a bloodshot pool of water and I saw the crudely butchered carcass of a deer. And there, a few yards away - _

_Peter._

_He sat on a fallen tree, his back to me and bent low, his hands hanging limply between his knees. He was filthy and ragged and unkempt and absolutely Magnificent. _

_Then I realized he was crying. _

_Not hard, not as though some terrible calamity had befallen him. His face was too calm for that. He was crying for release. I had seen him do this before, when he was emotionally overwhelmed or after long periods of pressure. Things built up and when he couldn't bear it any longer, he would take himself off in a corner and quietly vent._

_Oh, Peter. How many times had you wept since you left? I looked up at the gray sky and the dripping trees and it seemed as if the whole world was crying with him. Perhaps it was._

_In that moment I would have given anything, even my life, to be able to reach out to him. To comfort him. So instead I knelt down in the rain that never touched me and the leaves that didn't rustle at my passing and watched as his tears were exhausted and he was left drained and content._

_I smiled sadly as he drew a deep breath and slowly released it. There was a serenity about him now and not for the first time I envied him his ability to express his emotions with such dignity. He sniffed and wiped his face with a red, chapped hand, then slowly rose. He twinged in pain as he straightened, then bent and picked up his bow and a parcel wrapped in oilcloth which I suspected was his dinner. Never one to carry an extra ounce of fat on his body, he was thin as a lathe. But when he stood tall it was as if his crown was on his head and he was stepping into the throne room, every inch a King of Narnia. _

_I watched him limp off into the fading twilight, loneliness and longing and pride vying for supremacy in my heart._

This_ was my brother and my High King._

_Pride won._

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I was snatched out of sleep by the ghost of a crystal wand ripping straight through my body.

For the first time I was taken completely unaware and I screamed in agony. There were voices around me, gentle hands upon me. I could sense the anxiety and alarm at tha animal shriek that escaped my throat.

"Lucy! Quickly!"

Sweetness on my tongue. Trauma to my body was halted. Reversed. Healed.

I couldn't make the same claim for my mind and spirit. Someone was holding me closely. Lucy. I had frightened her badly. She certainly wasn't alone in that respect. Gasping, trembling, I lay in her arms, helpless to stop the tears. Too much. The pain and shock were too much for me and I rested my head against my little sister and, like Peter had in my dream, I just let myself cry until there was nothing left of my tears.

"Come, Sire," Martil said softly. I let myself be moved. The Fauns hastily pulled off my soiled clothes and wiped the blood from my body. Then they guided me over to my own clean bed. I was barely conscious of Aslan and Susan as I lay down again. The bed dipped as Susan climbed in and a minute later Lucy joined us. I was asleep almost instantly, glad that they were close. I could not go on like this.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I awoke early in the morn to the weight of Lucy on my arm and Susan's hair in my mouth. I spit out the hair and looked around. My sisters were on either side of me, soundly asleep, all of us sharing the same down pillow. I sensed movement, then a faint glow like moonlight as Aslan approached the bed. He looked at me with worried eyes.

"Aslan," I whispered so as not to wake the girls, "what's happening to me? It's getting worse."

"As you grow weaker, the enchantment grows stronger," he whispered back. "The White Witch's blood in you is fighting to fulfill the deathless spell."

"Will the cordial stop working?"

"No, my child. Both forms of magic cannot help but work. The cordial, though, was not made to combat Deepest Magic. Not on such a scale as this, and hence your pain."

I stared at him. Somehow I had guessed all this, but it was awful to hear out loud. "Aslan, I don't know how much longer I can bear this."

"For the sake of your brother and sisters, for Narnia, for me, you must endure, my child."

"I'm trying," I said, my voice cracking with the emotion I was fighting to suppress.

He laid his paw across Lucy to touch my face. "I know. I am here for _you_, Edmund."

I nodded tearfully.

"Go back to sleep," he ordered gently. "Rest. Save yourself for the coming trials. Your brother is on his way home. He will not fail you."

Of that I had no doubt and his words gave me more comfort than I could express. "Aslan?"

He turned back to me expectantly.

"Please don't let me sleep through midnight again. I'd rather face it with my eyes open."

He nodded his great head. "I give you my word."


	14. Naval Maneuvers

**Naval Maneuvers**

All preparations for receiving the _Gloriosa_ went on without me and they arrived while I was still asleep. The court physician ordered me to stay abed all day. Oreius seconded the motion and the committee comprised of my sisters, my valets, Celer, Cheroom, and Aslan voted unanimously in his favor. I had frightened them badly, at least as badly as I had frightened myself. I spent the day reading about law and sending the Cats to Cheroom whenever I had a question. I also sent a Bat to Flisk to let the Unicorn know that Aslan said Peter was returning just as I had promised I would. I stressed to the Bat to take his time finding him and that we knew absolutely nothing more, so it wasn't worth Flisk's while to return to the Cair. The last thing I needed right now was an uptight Unicorn quizzing me for information I didn't have.

By the afternoon I'd had quite enough with the sick bed and got up. I felt far better and decided to at least show up at the feast. Eating something was another issue entirely. I dressed myself warmly and snuck out before Martil could sound the alarm.

The Cair seemed a bit busier than normal, but that was typical when we had guests. I asked a passing maid about the Galmans and learned that there were eighteen crew, four officers, and three passengers invited to the feast. The Galmans are a jolly people, much like the Archenlanders. They have three great loves: the sea, music, and stories and they're happiest when they can get all three at once. It was strange to have more humans about the palace, but welcome. The Galmans are our subjects and proudly so, living in harmony with Narnia's citizens. Because their island was so tiny and remote there were far fewer Talking Animals, all of them small, and no Magical Creatures such as Centaurs, who require a great deal of room to live and work.

I was leaning on the railing along upper tier of the reception hall watching the preparations going on below when suddenly a rough hand landed on my shoulder and whirled me around. I found myself face-to-face with a boy about Peter's age. He had light brown hair, hazel eyes, a dark tan, and his expression was one of absolute shock.

"Your pardon, friend!" he exclaimed, letting go as if touching me had burned his hand. "I thought you were the ship's boy, wandered off! From the stern you look much alike."

I wasn't sure what to make of that. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

He smiled, showing crooked teeth. "A compliment, for he is a good sailor for his age. I am Ilando, of the _Gloriosa_."

"Well met. Your father is captain?" The Galmans, Avalynn had explained long ago, named their sons with variations of their father's name, similar to the way Archenlanders named their children from one base name.

The smile grew wider and he said with pride, "He is indeed. Do you live here at Cair Paravel?"

I realized he had no idea of who I was and that his openness and humor stemmed from that ignorance. I had missed free conversation with anyone my age and I wanted it to last, for he seemed a decent chap and it was refreshing not to be treated with tongue-tied reverence or empty flattery.

"Yes, I do," I replied.

"Are you a servant here?"

I nodded. "Of a sort, yes."

He gazed around at the rich decorations. "What's it like? Do you ever get lost?"

I smiled. "It's very grand and very cozy at once. And yes, I have gotten lost. Several times."

"I suppose even being a navigator on a ship wouldn't help in here."

"You just have to follow your nose to the kitchens."

Ilando chuckled and leaned over the rail as I had done, watching the servants setting the table. "The queens have invited us to a feast!" He was clearly thrilled. "Have you ever spoken to them?"

"The queens? Yes, I have. They're kindness itself."

"I would dearly love to meet them. My father actually had an audience with them and the kings when he brought the ambassadors here a few months past. I've heard both queens are very beautiful and that Queen Lucy is like a joyful song."

Coming from a Galman, that was a high compliment indeed, and I was glad to hear that on Galma Lucy wasn't dismissed in favor of Susan. "She is," I agreed.

"What are the kings like?"

I thought for a moment. "King Peter is very brave and and very smart. King Edmund is canny and a bit harder to pin down."

His voice dropped and he turned to me. "I heard he was a traitor to Narnia."

Surprisingly, that didn't bother me nearly as much as I thought it would. "He was," I admitted.

His confusion was evident. "Then how can he be a king?"

"You said it yourself, Ilando, he _was_ a traitor."

"Why would he do that?"

"He must have had his reasons."

"Well, nothing could ever make _me_ betray Galma," he boasted.

"Don't be so sure," I replied quietly. "You don't know for certain what choice you'll make until you're faced by that choice and every reaction your decision can cause."

He cast me a curious look. Clearly I'd given him food for thought, but to spare him I changed the topic.

"When do you sail?"

"On the morrow. A storm is blowing in from the west and my father hopes to outrace it."

"Can you really outrun the wind?"

He smiled proudly. "The _Gloriosa_ is the fastest ship in our fleet. Some day, I want to be her captain." He brightened and laid his hand on my arm. "You should come to Galma, friend! Ship away with us and become a sailor!"

I laughed. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I can't leave Narnia just yet. I would like to see Galma, though."

"Then I will show you all the island," he promised grandly. "And this I promise you, friend, our beer and our girls are far superior to what you find on Terebinthia."

We both laughed, then looked down into the hall as things were finalized for the feast.

"I'd best go," I said.

"And I as well. Will you be serving at the feast?"

"I'll be there."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "I like white milon wine," he teased, for milon is one of the strongest vintages in Narnia and I doubted he'd ever drank more than a mouthful at a time. I nodded my head to him and hurried away. I felt better for the acquaintance and the chance to talk, even though it made me miss Peter all the more.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The crew of the _Gloriosa_ was comprised of Men and Talking Animals and all were very animated and excited at the prospect of a feast. The party was small enough that we all sat at one table with a number of our courtiers mixed in to keep the conversation flowing. It wasn't an overly formal affair. Lucy, the founder of the feast, sat at the head of the table with Captain Ilano on her right and Astrad on her left. Susan sat at the foot with the first mate at her right and an awestruck sailor on her left.

I was enjoying another bout of feeling horrid a few minutes before the meal started and I almost begged off. Lucy compromised by simply reserving a seat for me in the center of the table. When I finally mastered the nausea gripping me I slipped into the room without fanfair. Catching the eye of the wine steward, I gave him a whispered order before approaching the table.

Immediately all the Narnains stood and bowed and a moment later the surprised Galmans - most of whom had never seen me before - also rose and bowed. "My apologies for not joining you sooner," I said, quickly taking my seat so they could resume theirs. "Please, continue."

On my left was a Water Rat that was astonished and rather tickled to find himself seated next to his king. On my right was an elderly dame with silver hair and blue eyes. I greeted them both before scanning the table. Just as I found Ilando, seated down by Lucy, I saw the wine steward fill his glass. He was blushing furiously and gave me the most apologetic look, but I only smiled in return to let him know there were no hard feelings for anything he had said or done and saluted him with my wine. With a relieved, hesitant smile he lifted his wine to me and we both drank. He almost choked on the powerful milon wine, but he laughed when he realized I had called his bluff.

I was surprised to learn that the old lady beside me, Dame Utha, was the learned tutor that the Galman ambassadors had promised, but it turned out she had a genius for mathematics and navigation and had served aboard many vessels in her time. She struck me as a little flinty, but when we began to discuss astronomy she became quite passionate and I had the distinct impression I had just found Cheroom's soulmate. She had brought with her a map maker and quite a lot of necessary equipment which she described at length. I found myself looking forward to her classes even if the math might be a little beyond me at the moment. I hoped she was prepared to have her name massacered by everyone in the kingdom, too. In Narnia, a 'th' sound is only pronounced at the beginning or the end of a word, never in the middle. Her name would thus be rendered 'Oot-ha' by our pronunciation, not 'Ooth-a' as they said on Galma.

The Rat was of old Galman stock and served as the boatswain on the _Gloriosa_. He had many, many tall tales, and some not so tall, about life on a ship that he told in very clipped words, always snapping his teeth and with much dramatic flourishing of paws and tail. Like Ilando, he eagerly invited me to go to sea, talking of pirates and treasure and kraken and monstrous strange fish from the ocean's depths. He was good company and could not get enough of the soft bread served to him with quince jam on the side.

I survived about an hour and ate half a bowl of soup before I felt myself fading. I caught Susan's eye and with a shake of my head let her know I was through. She looked worried, but I smiled faintly. I could make it back to my room by myself. When I rose from my chair everyone but Lucy and Susan stood and bowed.

"I ask your pardon again for leaving you so soon," I said. "Pray enjoy yourselves. I bid fair sailing to the _Gloriosa_ and her able crew. May Aslan bless your journey home."

They drank my health, for which I was grateful, and I left the feast. Moments later one of the palace servants, a lovely Dogwood Dryad, caught up with me in the hall.

"Your Majesty, one the Gloriosas asked leave to address you. It's a boy close to your years. He said his name is Ilando."

"I met him earlier. I'll gladly speak to him, Bithney."

I waited in the entrance hall and moments later Bithney escorted the Galman to me. Ilando bowed awkwardly, then stammered,

"K-King Edmund, I would like to a-apologize."

"What for?"

"I - I was rude and I laid hands on you and..."

And he had called me a traitor. I was shocked to realize he thought he might face some punishment for it. However distasteful it may be, though, it was the truth.

"Ilando," I said, "If you had known who I was would you have spoken so freely?"

"No!" he exclaimed, horrified. "Of course not!"

I gave him a wry smile. "Which is why I didn't say anything. Most new people I meet, my friend, say what they think I want to hear. You said what was in your heart, and I thank you for that rare gift."

He blushed. "I'm...sorry I thought you were a servant."

I forced a smile even though my stomach twinged painfully. "We're both servants, Ilando. You serve the _Gloriosa,_ I serve Narnia."

He thought on that a few moments, then smiled back. "You're right, King Edmund."

"Told you I was canny."

We parted soon after on very good terms with mutual promises to show off our homelands at the first opportunity. He returned to the feast and I slowly made my way up the steps, the guards and servants keeping especially watchful eyes on me as I passed. On the top landing I looked up to see Aslan waiting for me in the hall. He had declined going to the feast, perhaps for the express reason of meeting me right now.

"That was well said, Edmund," he complimented, and I knew he meant my conversation with Ilando. "There is much to be gained by cultivating such bonds of friendship."

"I seem to be getting better at it," I replied. "And it's nice to have friends like Brickit and Phillip who say what they think and mean exactly what they say."

He smiled. "It is indeed. Such ones speak out of love and affection."

I leaned on him, so golden and warm, and rested my head against his, so glad he was here, so lonely for my brother.


	15. Defeat

**Defeat**

The next morning I dragged myself out of bed. Since this was one of the few days of the week I was allowed to practice swordplay I was eager to get down to the training grounds. I was frustrated at this weakness that ruled me, the constant fatigue and muddled thoughts, the coldness that settled upon me and could not be shaken. Martil helped me into the thick, quilted clothes worn under the armor and I hastily laced up my heavy boots before slipping out into the dark hall.

"Edmund, did you eat?"

I only just managed to keep from jumping in alarm. I turned around. Lucy stood a few paces behind me with a candle in her hand and an expectant look on her face.

"I'm not hungry, Lu," I said truthfully.

Her eyes narrowed, but really, she wasn't very threatening even when she tried."I didn't ask that. You haven't eaten, have you?"

I couldn't lie, so instead I sighed.

"You ate half a bowl of soup last night, Edmund!" She clearly didn't care that she raised her voice. "You can't go train without having some breakfast."

"I'll eat when I get back. Peter and I always have breakfast after We can't train if we're stuffed."

"But you both always ate scones or muffins and tea before you leave for the training grounds. Silvo told me so."

Blast. If Silvo spilled to Lucy, he spilled to Oreius. I had to consume something now or Oreius would make me eat some of those tasteless millet cakes the Centaurs liked so much. They were so dense eating one could take days.

Lucy came closer, looking up at me with doleful eyes. "Edmund, I know you're not hungry, but maybe that's part of the spell. It's supposed to kill you. Maybe it's looking for other ways."

"And if I starve I'll be just as dead," I concluded. there was a certain logic to her reasoning. I sighed again. "You win. I'll eat a little now and when I get back I'll try to eat some more."

"Good! I had Avraiva serve some ginger scones. Come and sit for a minute."

The scones were warm and delicious and the company was determined not to lose me. I managed to eat most of one and I drank some hot chocolate to keep Lucy happy before I had to hurry down to join Celer. The guards were used to me and Peter passing them every morning, usually at a run, sometimes still eating whatever snack our valets set out for us before we reported to Oreius. I didn't run because I had to husband my strength and because my stomach was making me regret that scone. I bid the guards good morning as I passed, though, and thanked them for opening the doors as I stepped outside. The dawn was coming later every morning and the weather was very crisp and cold out as I hastened to the armory. I knew a storm was coming - I could feel it on the breeze. This month wasn't called Stormfall for nothing.

Halfway to my destination my stomach decided it had quite enough of breakfast and I stepped off the gravel path to be sick. I stood there gasping and miserable, my chest and stomach burning with pain. I wished many and varied a pox upon Jadis and her bloody curses. I was fed up with this. This feeling, these limitations, this whole situation. I wanted my brother back, I wanted my life back, and _I wanted her out of me_.

The Faun captain was waiting and he helped me into my armor. He immediately recognized that I was worked up about something and wisely didn't ask. These days I didn't need any excuses to be worked up. I didn't tell him that I had just been sick. I didn't dare. I needed a good workout right now no matter what it cost me.

I stared up at the wall where Peter's shield hung, the red lion on a silver background. It looked incomplete without Rhindon beside it. another curse upon Jadis for forcing him to leave. I tore my eyes away and scooped up my own shield, slinging it onto my arm automatically as I walked out. Celer followed me in silence. I didn't have just one word for how I felt. I was glad to be there, I felt sick to my stomach, I missed my brother, and I passionately hated the White Witch for causing all this. It was a strange feeling deep in the core of my being and I knew I needed this workout. I pulled up my mail cowl and clapped my helmet over my head. Every move had become automatic to me and I paused a moment, wondering at it and the fact that I was a king.

I _was_ a king. It was my blessing and my burden, just the same as Peter's quest. I was fortunate beyond words he had willingly gone to fetch the apple and it was my place to endure the agony of waiting and worrying for his return. Trying my best to push all thought and emotion aside for later, I stepped into the courtyard we used for training, Celer a few paces behind me. He loosened his own shield from across his back.

"We'll warm up until General Oreius arrives," he decided, his breath visible in the cold morning air. "Start with blocking."

I nodded, freeing Shafelm from its sheath and knocking my visor down into place. We worked back and forth, starting slowly with attacks and blocks. We slowly circled each other, trying different forms and angles as we traded blows. Celer was watching me close as a Hawk, alert to any fatigue or pain on my part.

If only he knew.

Every jarring blow reverberated in my chest and my back felt afire. Breathing deeply was like fighting a tight band about my chest. My head, my stomach - everything hurt and I didn't care because I was sick and tired of giving in to my body's demands. I hid it well, because after a few minutes Celer asked,

"Shields down?"

I nodded again, pleased. This meant the warm-up was over and it was time to duel. Normally he never would have asked, just told me, but ever since Oreius had cut back my training I was the one who set the pace, not the general or captain. I set my shield aside and faced the good Faun with both hands on my sword as I took a fighting stance, already lost in the motions.

_This_ is what I had been waiting for. I was pleased to see Celer take a moment to brace himself before giving me a small nod and I attacked without hesitation, swinging right at his head. He blocked easily enough but I didn't give him a chance to attack and pressed him back. He smiled, knowing this was what I lived for and excelled at above all other types of swordsmanship.

I whirled around, stepping into his attack to make up distance for my size. Blade point down, I blocked his sword in a backhanded, overhead arc that shouldn't have worked but stopped him completely.

"Ha!" Celer exclaimed, pleased. I was more innovative than Peter, though his technique was better than mine. We each had our strengths and our teachers were masters at bringing those strengths to the fore. As for our weaknesses...well, as far as I could tell Oreius had long-term plans for ruthlessly quashing each and every failing Peter and I displayed.

Celer swung and I dropped my weight straight down, ducking so low his blade passed right over my head and left his side open. I lunged and he twisted back just in time to keep from being 'killed' by my open palm. With a shake of his head he danced away, well aware that he had only just survived.

I was breathing heavily and sweating from more than exertion. I still didn't care. With a shout I attacked again, fast and furious, our swords ringing out across the courtyard. I stayed low and settled and at an angle to him, presenting a smaller and far more annoying target. Even my sword strokes came from the ground up. I couldn't do this for long because it was very tiring, but I enjoyed mixing things up and keeping my opponent confused. The only ones this didn't work against well were Peter and Oreius and I had yet to figure out why. That morning, though, Celer was mine.

I sliced Shafelm upwards, then reversed my arm and thrust the pommel into Celer's side before sweeping the blade in a wide arc so the tip came up and over his guard towards his neck. Celer grunted at the impact against his armor, but I knew I couldn't hurt him with that move and he blocked high, knocking Shafelm upwards.

Something about the move - the strength or the momentum or the angle - sent an incredible flare of pain straight through my chest that hurt as much as midnight. I gasped, feeling a rush of heat radiate from my chest. My vision blackened a moment and I automatically brought my arms in close and held Shafelm before me as Celer, unaware of my distress, spun completely around and brought his blade straight across mine.

An ugly, hollow, metallic sound rang out as I lost hold of my weapon. Shafelm clattered to the stone pavement and I followed, dropping to my knees, my hands clutching my chest. I fought for breath, fought nausea and faintness. I heard hoof beats and suddenly Oreius sank down beside me, no mean feat for a Centaur. I had no idea that he was here. Celer was on the other side, pulling off my helmet and pushing back my cowl. I couldn't speak. The only sound I could possibly have made at that moment was a scream and I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from doing just that. Strong hands steadied and supported me as I tried not to heave or pass out. A minute or more passed before I trusted myself not to shriek out my pain.

"Sire," Oreius said softly, "you must rest. Your body is not equal to the demands you place upon it. When your brother returns and this curse is broken, then we'll make up for lost time. Until then, King Edmund, you must not drive yourself so hard."

I looked up at the general and he gazed right back at me. He knew. He understood. If I gave in now...I had lost. The truth be told, though, I had.

_...no matter how distasteful it may prove, you are a man of truth._

But Oreius, who knew it tasted quite this bad?

I felt my resistance draining away as my breathing grew easier. I supposed admitting defeat was just another truth. Still, nodding my head to Oreius was one of the most difficult things I had ever done.

"Come," said the Centaur. He hauled himself upright, then helped me to my feet and kept his big hand on my shoulder to support me. "Back to the Cair," he ordered, gesturing for the captain to gather our equipment.

I returned Shafelm to its sheath. I was shaking like a leaf and almost dropped the sword a second time. Celer moved away when I reached for my shield.

"You can have it back when we reach the stables," he said. We both knew we wouldn't pass anyone before then.

I made a face and huffed, then winced at the cramp in my back as I stood up straight. Slowly we walked back to the archway. As we reached it I had the oddest feeling of being watched. It wasn't malevolent or threatening, just...there. I turned abruptly, hoping to catch whomever it was.

The courtyard was empty. I stared at the familiar area, wondering.

"Majesty?" asked Oreius.

"I thought I..." I frowned. The sensation had been fleeting and now it had vanished on the damp breeze. The first few drops of rain started falling. I sighed, feeling sad and empty. "Never mind. It's nothing."

And so defeated, I let them help me back to Cair Paravel.


	16. The Persistence of Memory

**The Persistence of Memory**

_The room was so cold not even the warmth of my body could melt the ice I sat upon. All was misty shadows and strange light, rather the way you can see well when it snows at night. My wrists and ankles were bound so tightly with metal and chain that I could neither stand nor feel my fingers. I had no way of knowing how long I'd been in this ice cell, but it was long enough to regret my every action for the last year and more._

_Perhaps I slept. The next thing I knew the Black Dwarf, Ginarrbrik, stood beside me with his whip in hand. I could smell the dirty fur he wore and the sweat on his body. He smiled wickedly down at me an instant before he lashed out with the coiled whip, smashing me flat. Pain and cold vied for supremacy over my whole body. He kicked and beat me, laughing, hating…_

_And then SHE was there, beautiful and terrible, wise in evil, with twisted majesty. Jadis sneered at me, glad that I was suffering, savoring my fear. She loomed over me, lightly tracing a wheal from the whip's handle on my cheek with an icy fingertip. It wasn't enough for her. She drew a sharp nail like a claw across the spot, scraping deeply and drawing blood. I flinched and she slapped me to the floor, her hand bloodied. She laughed, showing me her red fingers. Delicate as a cat, she put a finger to her tongue, licked the blood off-_

I struggled against the covers, gasping and panting as I fought my way out of the nightmare. I sat up, looking around wildly. Peter's room. Vaulted ceilings and rich wood and stained glass. No ice, no chains, no eerie light shining through the walls. I brought a hand to my cheek, but there was nothing there. I dropped back into the pillows. This dream would not stop haunting me. I'd woken up every night the past week from nightmares about Jadis and they were growing in intensity and cruelty. I was sweaty and sore and it wasn't the cold that made me shiver. I probed the spot on my chest with shaking hands. It couldn't have been more than two hours since Lucy had healed me.

Aslan was absent. That was unusual. He had been here when I fell asleep. Perhaps he had expected me to sleep the night through or had been called away.

Throwing back the blankets, I walked out onto the balcony that linked Peter's room with my own. It was cold and crisp outside and the wind off the Eastern Sea smelt of salt and coming rain. I thought of Peter, wondering if he was safe and warm, hoping - but doubting - he was both.

All my fault. Guilt wrapped around me like a cloak. This was all my -

I shook my head sharply, physically stepping away from where I had stood, trying to dislodge that sleepy train of thought. I had not done this. Jadis had. I had promised Peter I'd try to forgive myself. I wasn't having much success, especially late nights like this when sleep eluded me once again, but least I _wanted_ to forgive myself now.

I had little hope of sleeping tonight. Not after such a disturbing dream. Most likely I'd nod off on Oreius later today, Aslan bless him for his patience and understanding. Collapsing on Celer last week had been the final straw for the good general, though, and he refused to allow me to drill and train as usual, cutting out my training completely and eliminating the Sixthday class in military science. He was more concerned about my health than my education right now. I suppose most everyone was.

I sighed, my loneliness growing more acute. I was always lonely nowadays even with Lucy and Susan to keep me company. I had thought Dad leaving, and then being sent to the country by Mum was bad enough, but the absence of my only brother, the foremost constant in my life, was far worse.

_You must each have faith that the other will stay constant._

Oh, Aslan, I was trying, but it was so very hard. Up until last week I had kept the pain mostly hidden. It was impossible now. Every movement, every breath hurt as badly as midnight.

It was cold outside in this wind and I'd been too cold of late. I returned to the bedroom and donned one of Peter's heavy robes. It was too big, but I didn't care because it smelled faintly of him and it was very warm. I pulled slippers over my socks and headed for the library. If the Owls and the Raccoons weren't about, I'd go annoy the Bats. Anything to dispel the memory of Jadis. Though I heard voices in the library, I suddenly found I didn't want their company. I turned my feet instead towards the east, down a few flights of stairs until I came to the room Lucy now called Lion Chapel.

There was a single light burning in the golden lamp overhead when I opened the door. The arched window was barely visible against a black sky. The room was snug and still, the carpet from the Tisroc was soft and inviting beneath my feet. Since there were no seats in here yet, I sat down on it and wrapped the robe tighter around me. Even just being here was calming to me. Aslan had blessed this sanctuary and Lucy loved it and I needed it more than they could ever know.

I was tracing the designs in the carpet with my eyes when I heard a soft sound in the hall. A moment later the door opened and Aslan slid silently into the chapel. He padded in on velvet paws and sat close beside me, his long, tufted tail wrapping around me. I inched closer to his warmth.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

"I knew that you couldn't," he replied fondly.

"I had a nightmare," I explained, hardly able to raise my voice above a whisper out of reverence for this space. "The same one."

His voice was so wonderfully calm. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," said I, "but I probably should. I might sleep if I do and...then I won't fall asleep on Oreius later."

He chuckled softly. "The general won't mind."

"But I should try."

He nodded and slowly reclined, arching his body around me protectively, inviting me to curl in next to him as I shared what was haunting my sleep.

"I dreamed I was in the dungeon of the White Witch's castle," I began, and told him everything in the dream. I had trouble talking and I struggled to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. As I spoke I remembered more details from previous nights and I added them as I went. It seemed somehow wrong to speak of something so grotesque in a place like this. Then Aslan leaned in close so that he could see my face.

"Did this happen?"

Very reluctantly, I nodded. Aslan's eyes were gentle and full of empathy and I had trouble looking at him. I think he knew that this wasn't the worst that had occurred to me when I was her prisoner. I knew Peter suspected more abuses than I had told, than I ever wanted to tell.

"Edmund...what is past has passed. You needn't dwell upon it."

"I deserved it," I whispered.

"Do you honestly believe that?"

I wasn't as certain as I had been in the past. "Yes."

"But that was the past and you were enchanted. Lay it to rest."

"I can't," I whispered. "Not yet. Not while I know she's still in me. Aslan, I want to let it all go but I don't know _how_."

"Then Peter will show you upon his return."

"I hope so. If I can't be fair to myself, how can I be fair to anyone else?"

"Have faith that he will help you find a way, for until you learn to let go you'll never be whole."

"Are they very far away?"

"Every day Peter and Phillip draw nearer to Narnia. You are foremost in your brother's thoughts." With a little sigh he settled more comfortably into the carpet. His golden eyes seemed to probe deeply into me, perhaps all the way down to my careworn soul. "Tell me something, Edmund: when did you become a king?"

I smiled, confused. "When you crowned me."

Aslan shook his head. "By crowning you I merely provided the trappings for what was already in place. When did you become a king? What moment did you realize you valued Narnia above yourself?"

I thought hard. "When...when she would have hurt Mr. Tumnus in the dungeon. I thought I could distract her attention away from him. It didn't work. I just made things worse. And then with Sir Giles..."

"But you tried. So it was in Jadis's palace and presence that you became King Edmund. That is fitting, is it not?"

I mulled this over in my mind. It struck me as ironic that Jadis should have a hand in creating this person King Edmund since I helped destroy her and her power and her army. Jadis had given me my hatred of injustice and my desire to be a judge. She had shown me the true meaning of cruelty and the true value of love. And she had taught me that sacrifice was the highest calling of them all. Aslan watched me closely.

"Very fitting," I finally agreed, appreciating the point he was making.

"Then think upon that should this nightmare dare return. You don't belong to the White Witch. You belong to yourself and to your family and to Narnia."

"And you?" I pressed hopefully.

"You are mine as much as I am yours, my beloved child."

"Good," I said a little fiercer than I meant to, but the emotion was genuine. His words made sense in a way I couldn't explain, only understand, and I knew I was very much his. "Aslan?"

"Yes?"

I looked around at the lovely chapel. When Lucy was done it would somehow be even more beautiful than it was now. "If I pray to you from here, will you hear?"

"I always listen to your prayers, my child, no matter where you are, and I always answer even though you may not like or understand my reply."

"That's all right," I said with a shrug. "So long as I know you're listening. Can you hear what I'm thinking?"

"Only when you want me to."

"Oh. Well." I wondered if I had thought anything rude or embarrassing that he'd picked up on. I could only hope that wasn't the case. "Well, I'm glad. I'm good with words but only when I'm talking about things or situations. Not...how I feel."

He smiled and touched his tongue to my forehead. His voice was soft as he said, "You do very well, Edmund Pevensie. You do very well indeed."


	17. Storm

**Storm**

"Marin," I said, turning to the silver tabby as she ran up the main stairs, "what are you doing here? I thought you were going to help your sister move her kittens indoors."

The Cat shook her head, jumping up lightly onto the railing beside me. She was soaked to the skin and there was panic in her voice as she spoke. "There was no time, King Edmund! The storm moved in too quickly and she couldn't get them out of the stable. With this rain it will flood and she can't climb!"

I stared at Marin, horrified. The stable Mrs. Tibs had been staying in was the farthest from the Cair and set lowest on the hill. The ground floor could flood easily and Mrs. Tibs and the kittens would drown if her shoulder wouldn't allow her to climb to the loft. I looked back through the windows. I could see nothing. Rain beat upon the stained glass and it was pitch black outside as a mighty autumn storm swept across Narnia with all the force of a hurricane.

_When did you become a king?_

My subjects were in grave danger, helpless before this tempest. I felt a chill as I envisioned Mrs. Tibs trying to protect her children. She wouldn't have a hope.

"Marin," I said, resolved, "I'm going down to the stable and I'll help your sister at least move the kittens to the loft. I want you to find Oreius or Celer and tell them where I've gone. If you see one of the valets or my sisters or Aslan, tell them as well. Tell everybody you see. If I can get them back here safely, I will. If not, I'll get them into the loft. Make sure Oreius knows where I went and why. Understood?"

"Let me accompany you, Sire!"

"No."

"But you can't go alone!"

"Then send help! Do as I've said!"

She nodded, already running. "Immediately, Sire!"

I hurried down the stairs, rushing through the halls to reach the kitchens. The rear door to the kitchen was the closest to the stables, though they were still a good ways off. If I moved quickly enough I could get them all back to the Cair well before midnight.

"King Edmund!" exclaimed one of the cooks, a stout old Dwarf named Duffkin. He was well named because he did rather look like a pudding.

"I'm going to the stables," I told him before he could ask. "Mrs. Tibs and her kittens are out there in the last stable and if it floods they'll drown. I'll be back."

"Take this, Majesty," he said, reaching down a tightly woven basket with a hinged lid. "And hurry. She's not the worst storm I've seen, but she's bad enough!"

I tucked the basket under my arm. "Thank you. If anyone asks, tell them where I went."

I yanked open the door. A tremendous blast of ice-cold wind and rain drove me back and I almost fell over.

"It's too dangerous, lad!" shouted Duffkin.

"I won't let them drown!"

I dashed out into the storm. Instantly I was soaked to the skin and the wind buffeted me and almost tore the basket out of my grasp. I coughed as cold water splashed in my face and I struggled to see. There was barely any light to see by, but as I pressed forward along the path my vision adjusted to the darkness and I could make out the shapes of trees and buildings. I ran down the slope to the ornate wooden footbridge spanning the stream. The stream, usually so friendly and gentle, had grown to a violent and uncontrolled torrent. The arched bridge swayed as I rushed across it and I was struck by the sheer, desperate stupidity of my actions. A tremendous burst of lighting illuminated the field for a few heartbeats and the rumbling thunder that followed was deafening. The trees bent low under the force of the gale, stripped bare of their leaves. I could see the first of the stables and headed slightly to the north towards the farthest one. The lashing rain pummeled me so hard it was painful, but I was closer to the stables than I was to palace by now and I pressed onwards.

I dashed rain out of my eyes, a rare prayer welling in my heart. _Aslan, let me save them. Let me reach them. They'll drown. They're babies. Lion help me! I have to do something! I will not stand by and do nothing, Aslan!_

I don't know if he heard since it was less a plea for assistance than justification to myself, but the mere thought of the great golden Lion was enough to give me the will to press on. I was shivering cold and there was a stinging in my chest. The mud grew deep and I slipped and fell into a puddle with a bark of pain. The storm became wilder and I heard a tremendous sound of wood splitting and splintering. Rolling over and pushing myself up onto my hands, I barely saw the footbridge shift on its footings. With a cracking rumble it collapsed beneath the fury of wind and water, effectively cutting me off from the Cair for now.

Cutting me off from Lucy...and the cordial.

I huffed, trying to clear my nose of mud. It was conceivable that I could circle around the palace to the next bridge about a mile to the southwest and reach the main gates, but in my mind it was inconceivable that I would abandon any of my subjects. Peter never would. Nothing mattered but reaching Mrs. Tibs and her kittens now. I could only hope Marin delivered my message, because it _was_ my only hope. But even if help couldn't come, I could still act.

I scrambled to my feet and fought to stay upright against the wind. Another flash of lighting and crack of thunder showed me I was only a few hundred yards from the stable. I ran as best I could, slipping and sliding every step. The ground was soaked and water pooled ankle-deep around the low-lying building. I splashed through the muddy water and threw myself under the thatched eaves, panting. I shoved the door open and gained the relative shelter of the old stable. A steady rivulet of water ran through, muddying the earth floor and carrying the straw against the downhill wall where the water gathered before slowly draining out. There was half a foot of murky water accumulated throughout the ground floor, more than enough to drown a kitten or even a Cat.

"Mrs. Tibs!" I shouted. "Mrs. Tibs, it's Edmund! Where are you? Mrs. Tibs!"

I strained my ears and in a few moments I was rewarded by a frightened mewing sound. "Abigale? Bellas?" I called, wading towards the faint noise. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the scene and I understood now why Mrs. Tibs hadn't answered.

She was trapped in the mud at the base of the ladder leading to the loft. Abigale was on her back, trying to reach the lowest rung of the ladder, her tiny paws flailing. Nain and Bellas were already clinging to the rung and struggling to keep their balance. I let out a shout and rushed over. I still had the basket and I hastily snatched the crying kittens up and dumped them into it before slinging it as far back on my arm as I could. Then I slid my other arm under the mother Cat's belly, holding her head out of the water as I worked her mired legs and tail free.

There was nowhere to go but up the ladder. It shifted in the deep mud as stepped onto the first rung. If help was coming it was coming here and I didn't want to risk the kittens in the rain. I held the motionless, muddy Cat close to my side and climbed up into the loft. It was shadowed and musty but mostly dry and I kicked the scattered straw into a pile before setting the basket down and opening the lid. The terrified babies spilled out and clambered for their mother, but I said,

"Just a moment. You're all safe. Hang back and let me clean your mother up."

I peeled off my sodden tunic and wrung it out, then used it to clean the mud off Mrs. Tibs as best I could. Curiosity overcame fear and three waterlogged little kittens crowded around me as I worked, watching intently. Another crack of thunder sent them squealing and jumping onto me from all sides. I grimaced as tiny claws dug through my leggings and shirt as the kittens took shelter on me. Their mother hadn't moved from exhaustion, but the cleaning helped to warm and dry her and after a few minutes she was able to lift her head.

"King Edmund?" she whispered, squinting at me. Her glasses were gone.

"I'm right here," I said, my teeth chattering with the cold. "Your kittens are safe, m'am, and I hereby command you to move into the palace."

"I shall, sire," she said wearily and I knew she was smiling.

"Come on, now." I motioned to the trio of kittens, inviting them to tackle the larger cat, which they did with excitement and relief, all of them talking at once. After reassuring herself that they were well she immediately set about grooming them and stepped on them when they tried to wriggle out of it. I was reminded of when I was little and I used to try to escape Susan when she came at me with a hairbrush. I smirked at the memory.

Then I gasped aloud, my hands grasping my mid-section, my body on fire with pain.

Midnight.

I collapsed backwards, striking my head on the wooden floor so hard I was almost knocked unconscious. I had never told Peter, but he must have guessed that the crystal had severed my spine. From the waist down I could feel nothing. I could smell blood and mud and rain, hear the storm and frightened babies and my own horrible, rasping breaths. For an eternity I lay there in a state of cold, detached pain and I knew I was dying, just as I had been dying at Beruna. It was even more awful than I remembered, this sense of heaviness and the feel of cooling blood. Every breath was a battle and my chest was heavy as I forced myself to go on living.

_Why?_ I wondered of myself. If I so felt I deserved it, why was I fighting?

_Because you're a stubborn little beast, _my own voice answered in my mind, _and you promised your brother._

And then I realized something amidst all this horror and agony: not even _I_ deserved this.

_...promise me you'll forgive yourself..._

Oh, Peter. Dammit. I _had_ promised him I would try and I could not break a promise made to the High King any more than I could break a promise to my brother. Until now I hadn't thought it was possible that I might ever see this situation from his point of view, but he was right. No one deserved this. I wasn't sure _how_ to forgive myself, but I knew now that I _could. _I had to. I _needed_ to.

Because not even a reformed traitor deserved to have the like of Jadis triumph over him.

And I wasn't a traitor. Not any more. I was a king.

_...let it be done..._

It was.

I thought of my brother as I lay dying in a pool of my own blood and despair held no dominion over me.

I opened my eyes a slit to the strangest light. A golden glow like candlelight seemed to fill the stable. I heard Mrs. Tibs' voice rise up in desperate alarm: "Here! Here! He's up here! Hurry!" A smell sweeter than perfume filled the air I dragged into my lungs, and then all was quiet and still.


	18. The Deplorable Word

Um, just please be warned that this chapter implies some very inappropriate conduct by Jadis towards Edmund, the full extent of which I have yet to discover. I consider Jadis to be an extremely depraved individual and I can see her acting in the way I've written. I would say kick the rating up a notch for this chapter. You have been warned.

Also! Wathira has very graciously allowed me to borrow the idea that Jadis and her rebellious sister were identical twins. "The Fall of the House of Charn" gives a deliciously wicked insight to the events that lead up to the civil war on Charn which Jadis brought to a rather abrupt end...

**The Deplorable Word**

I tried. Truly, I tried.

Oreius issued an order that I was not allowed onto the training grounds _at all_ and all my armor and weapons were removed from the armory and stashed away where I couldn't find them. He needn't have bothered going to such lengths because there was no way I could have even stood in full armor, let along swing a sword.

His great uncle, Cheroom, did not teach me so much any more as simply spend time with me, either in my rooms or the library. Mathe occasionally dropped in for an hour or two of easy debating or discussion of history and it was always fun to watch Minovin outfox him at his own game, since she was at least as clever as he and better at puns. Sometimes Dame Utha joined us in the library. I was happy to see them get along so well and she had resigned herself to the Narnian pronunciation of her name. She was very pleased with the prospective officers she was interviewing (for she refused to teach anyone that didn't meet her standards) and was enjoying life here at the Cair. The flinty edge to her that I had noticed at first seemed smoothed by Narnian hospitality and humor. I was sorry to miss her instruction for now, for after a lesson or two I had already fallen behind, but when Peter returned she promised she would make navigators out of us both. Both Utha and the map maker (a Lemur of uncommon ability) had offered suggestions to improve the planned port. She had tried talking to me about a navy, but to my embarrassment I nodded off on the dear woman and she put off the discussion until I could keep awake long enough to carry my end of it.

I listened more than I spoke, bundled up as if for a blizzard in my chair by the fire and constantly thirsty and listless from the loss of so much blood. My rescue of Mrs. Tibs had all but cost me my life. Aslan had reprimanded me gently for not asking for help in the venture, Susan had berated me roundly for going myself and frightening her so completely, and Lucy had hugged me and thanked me for saving the family of Cats. She said that Mrs. Tibs had moved to one of the out buildings by the herb garden, a far dryer and healthier place by all standards. I sat meekly and let everyone have their say, knowing I had scared them all silly and not wanting to stir the pot lest Oreius try to voice his opinion as well.

Oh, how I was trying.

Every waking moment was agony, but sleeping was worse because with sleep came nightmares, and everything that made me weaker made the deathless spell that much stronger.

It was killing me. Gradually, yes, but I could see death was inevitable unless Peter got back very soon. I wasn't eating or sleeping as I should. I was so worn down that I really wasn't as bothered by the prospect of dying as I thought I would (or should) be. My only fear was breaking my promise to my brother.

And so I hung on as best I could. For Peter's sake I would defy Jadis to the last.

Aslan was by my side constantly. I could only imagine what would have happened to me if he had gone into the west with Peter. I would be dead and the quest would be futile. It was that simple.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_A cold red sun, bloated and in the millennia-old throes of death, a pinkish light on a dreamscape I had seen before. An ancient city, once glorious, now too old and worn to be called anything but a ruin. I stood at the top of a long flight of steps with a monstrous and ponderous palace rising high into the gray sky behind me. It was so massive I could see the city below, the choked and diminished riverbed, the crazy network of streets and canals and bridges spread out before me in dull stone._

_A mighty din filled the air, a roar of battle. Everywhere people were fighting, riotous and frenzied_. _Could they even tell_ _who was on what side? Chariots drawn by strange beasts trampled anyone in their path as the fighting spilled onto the steps leading to the palace. Blood ran freely down the streets and the almighty stench was overwhelming._

_A presence beside me seized my attention: Jadis, pale and terrible, dressed in magnificent robes and a crown. In her hand she carried a scepter of gold. Her arrogant self-assurance was evident as she stood watching her army get slaughtered. _

_Then a woman broke through the ranks fighting on the steps. She was stunningly beautiful and with a thrill I realized she was Jadis' twin. But where Jadis was cruel, this woman was wise and good. Her fair hair was tied back in a great mass and in her hand she carried a bloodied sword. She had lead this fight. It was a civil war. In that moment it seemed she and her army had triumphed._

_"Bellatrix," whispered Jadis with as much contempt as pity._

"_Victory!" Bellatrix shouted at Jadis, defiant and furious, pointing her sword at her sister._

_I knew that smile curling Jadis' lips. I had seen it. Felt it. If I could have, I would have warned her sister. But this was a dream and long, long in the past._

"_Yes," Jadis agreed, her voice deceptively calm. "Victory, but not yours."_

_For an instant, realization and shock replaced triumph on her sister's face._

_Jadis drew a deep breath, closing her eyes an instant as she prepared herself for...what? When I looked back it wasn't Queen Jadis standing there, but the White Witch in her snowy furs and ice crown staring down at me. Her expression filled me with terror because it held the same mocking affection she had shown me when her abuses had been the most atrocious._

_She was in me. She was a part of me. Her blood was fighting to take her final revenge. It had taken over my dreams and brought me to this awful place._

_She looked away, releasing me from her thrall for a moment._

_And then she uttered a single word._

_A visible, silent shockwave spread out across the city like a ripple on a pool, blasting everything its path. Bodies exploded in showers of gore before the force of the word disintegrated them to nothing. People didn't even have a chance to scream before they were dead. Everything was dead. Destroyed. Gone. Her sister, her people. Birds, plants, animals, all the fishes in the sea. Only the cold sun remained. All in an instant. With one word. I knew that Jadis was the only living thing left in the world._

_What had she done? What she had done... It couldn't even be said that she had _won_ the war. She simply...hadn't lost._

_Horrified, I stared at the spot where Bellatrix had stood. Not even dust remained. I only looked up when Jadis swept into my line of sight, towering over me. I was quaking, too shocked and panicked to move even if I could as she ran her cold hand through my hair. _

_This was a dream. This was a dream. This was -- _

_She closed her fist and yanked my head back so I had no choice but to look at her. I had no control here. Still, that sneering smile as she bent closer, her hard eyes glittering with delight, her red lips like blood on snow._

_She kissed me. The faintest touch of her icy lips pressed to mine in a caress at once delicate and perverse, for she corrupted something as precious as a gesture of love. __The contact intensified. Stifling, painful, cruel, it was everything a kiss should never be. Frigid and biting and unnatural. I could not escape her hold. She drank in my terror, fed off of it, just as she had fed off of my innocense when I was her captive. _

_It hurt. It hurt. It hurt almost as much as..._

_She drew away and touched my lips with a slender, dead-white finger. "Victory," she said softly, "but not yours."_

_Then she leaned close to my ear._

_And uttered a single word._

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"_ASLAAAAAN!"_

Screaming, screaming. Pain unimagined. There was nothing for it, no means of expressing the agony that seized me in its grasp and would not release me. The horrible sound was coming from my own throat and I could not stop. Hot blood on my tongue, running down my neck and front. I writhed and fought, trying to find a way to escape this world of pain, screaming for the only hope of relief I knew.

"LUCY!" roared Aslan.

Tramping feet of guards. My sisters screaming. The panicked voices of the Fauns. Rushing about. Gentle hands restraining me. Calloused hands steadying my head.

Sweet wine mingled with the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

I looked at the Lion with unfocused eyes, then fainted.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Softness. That and warmth were all I was aware of for the longest time. I could feel the bed and pillows beneath me, the blankets atop me. Every limb seemed to weigh a ton. I had no desire to move and so I lay on the verge of sleep, listening to the faint voices around me.

"My queen?"

"He hasn't moved, Martil," Susan said in hushed tones.

_That's because he can't, sister_, I thought.

"Did Aslan say...?"

"He doesn't know. Edmund just woke up screaming Aslan's name. You saw him."

"At least the cordial healed his ear drums, Highness, and stopped his nose from bleeding."

"What could do this?"

"The power of the White Witch, good my queen, was further reaching and more diabolical than I think you were witness to when you arrived in Narnia. That she can strike at your brother even beyond death, even in his dreams, surprises me not at all."

That motivated my sleepy thoughts to start exploring my memories for what had occurred. I had no trouble recalling my dream. In my mind's eye I could see it with frightening detail. The war. Twin sisters. Death. I could feel her frigid kiss. Her breath in my ear as she spoke that word with loving vindictiveness...

The word. Even its echo in my mind was painful and I let out a little cry, trying to twist away from my own being. Outstanding. First Jadis had invaded my body, then my dreams, and now my very thoughts were corrupted and being used against me.

"Edmund!" Susan exclaimed quietly, her voice at once frightened and full of hope. "Edmund! Wake up! Martil, fetch Aslan and Queen Lucy!"

I cracked an eye. The room was horribly bright and I couldn't help but wince. Immediately I heard the bed curtains being drawn to block out the worst of the light and I was able to pry open my eyes.

Susan, pale and tired, bent over me. I noticed her hair was unkempt and she had ignored her toilette, but her eyes were bright as she sat on the bed and gently took my hand.

"Edmund, we've been so worried," she whispered, smoothing my hair back with her free hand.

It was a comfort to know I wasn't alone in that, at least. I blinked, feeling stupid and heavy. "What happened?" I asked, shocked at the weakness in my own voice.

Before she could make reply the doors opened and Lucy and Aslan hurried into the room. Lucy was in her robe and slippers. How long had this vigil lasted? With a little squeak, Lucy threw herself right at me. She would have tackled me but for Susan restraining her.

"Careful!" warned Susan.

"Oh, Edmund, you frightened us!" cried my little sister, crushing the fingers of my right hand in her enthusiasm. I wriggled my hand free and held hers.

"What happened?" I wondered again.

"You woke up screaming!" she exclaimed. I flinched at the volume and immediately Lucy piped down as Susan shushed her gently.

"Shh, Lucy. Not so loud. She's right, though," Susan explained. "Two days ago, very early in the morning, you just woke up screaming Aslan's name and thrashing. It was as if you were fighting something awful. Your nose was bleeding and you had burst your eardrums. We finally held you and you collapsed as soon as Lucy gave you more cordial."

Two days ago? _Two days?_ I was glad I'd missed it. I hadn't been fighting, though, I had been trying to escape.

"What happened?" asked Susan.

I sighed, trying to find the words. "I dreamed."

Aslan drew nearer. "Of Jadis?"

I nodded and swallowed. My throat was terribly dry. Silvo, bless him, seemed to realize this and bustled off to fetch me a drink. Moments later Susan helped me to sit up and I drank a cup of warm tea. It tasted atrocious but I didn't care and I swallowed it all before dropping back into the pillows. A wet rag would have been less limp than I was right then.

"I saw a different world," I said. "Very old. The sun was red and burning out."

"Charn," Aslan provided. "It was Jadis' home."

Charn. An ugly name for an ugly world. "There was a war. A civil war. All in the streets. Jadis' twin sister was winning, but just at the end Jadis...she..."

The fear, the panic, the horror came back in a rush and I gasped for air.

"Shh," soothed Susan.

All I needed now was to hyperventilate. I looked to Aslan and in his gaze I saw nothing but calmness and understanding. Thus assured, I felt my breath come easier.

"She said a word," I managed, then let out a cry as I unconsciously recalled the word and pain worse than the most terrible headache exploded in my mind again. "She...killed...her whole world," I gulped, determined to have done with the tale. "Everyone! And then...she said it...to me - aaaagh!"

I tried to cover my ears, but the sound of her voice was in my mind, not on my lips, and the gesture was futile. There was no blocking out her evil now. I tasted blood and felt pressure on my face and I knew I had a nose bleed. Aslan moved forward and I felt my hair stir as he breathed on me. It was a comforting and sweet sensation.

"Peace," whispered Aslan, locking eyes with me. I wished he could take the word away, banish it from my mind forever. I didn't want to know it. I didn't want it to be part of me. Jadis was bad enough but now she had burdened me with her ultimate power and evil. Was she mocking me, tempting me, appealing to the conniving and calculating little bastard that I had been when I first came here and fell under her sway? Even dead she was still trying to avenge herself on me, on Narnia, and on Aslan.

"Peace," he whispered again, his voice somehow growing even more gentle as the turmoil in me grew.

"Don't let me talk," I begged the Lion. "Don't let me think. Aslan, take it away from me, please!"

There were tears in his eyes. Tears that were absent from my own. I would not cry for her sake, but he would cry for mine. I knew that this one of those instances where I would not like his answer to my prayer. He moved forward and rested his head on my lap, his great tears wetting the blankets. I wrapped my arms as far around his neck as I could and lost myself in the soft roughness of his mane.

"Please," I pleaded.

"Peace," he said for the third time.

If only I knew the meaning of the word.


	19. Musical Interlude

**Musical Interlude**

"Aslan?"

"Yes, Edmund?"

"What happened? What was it I saw in the dream?"

He drew a deep breath, his expression thoughtful as he formed his answer, for this was the first time since waking up yesterday that I had been able to bring myself to talk about what I had seen on Charn. I was sure he didn't want to risk repeating the scene. I know I certainly didn't.

"What you witnessed in your dream happened long in the past, on a world far removed from here."

"She really did that? Killed her whole world? Why?"

We were relaxing in the sitting room attached to the queens' suite, where my siblings and I normally gathered for breakfast. This was as far as I could walk right now and after somehow ending up in here I couldn't be bothered to leave. The fire was warm and I was swathed in blankets and robes, complete with gloves, two layers of clothes (Peter's) and three pairs of socks to combat this constant chill. After so much sleep it seemed strange that I could still be exhausted, but I hadn't felt this knocked up since the day I had been knighted. Martil had brought me soup and tea and I was eating very, very slowly in the hopes that I wouldn't be sick.

"Jadis would far sooner destroy a thing she coveted than to see it loved by another. As you well know."

I felt a twinge of shame, though I was sure that wasn't the Lion's intent. "How did she do it?"

"A powerful and terrible magic called the Deplorable Word. It is the blackest of magic, the sort of power that should never be pursued or used. Knowledge of such a thing comes at a heavy price."

"I can't argue that," I agreed. I was actually having trouble carrying on this conversation. In my mind I was concentrating very hard upon a piece of music I'd heard the court musicians play last week in order to keep from rethinking the Deplorable Word. Sounds, not words, were running through my head right then.

"Eat your soup," Aslan ordered gently, and I obediently downed another spoonful from the bowl before me. It was late morning and after an hour of persuasion on my part, the girls had left me to Aslan's care and were in dance class. I had never thought the day would dawn that I'd miss dancing, but here it was. Peter would faint if he knew.

There was a question I had to ask, though. I pushed aside my fears. "Why didn't it kill me, then?"

"The first time she said it, you were looking into a window on the past, a witness to an old memory on a world not your own. The second time...the Word must be spoken by the living, not the dead, for its true power to work. What you felt was a mere echo, whispered by a shadow."

I ate some more soup, the closest to hungry I had been in weeks. "It was still pretty effective."

"It was," he agreed.

"Did she ever try using it here in Narnia?"

"She did. Fortunately the nature and the scope of that power did not carry over to any world outside of Charn. Indeed, Jadis found that all her powers save her physical strength had changed once she left her world."

My curiosity got ahead of my sense. "What became of it here?"

Aslan cocked his head and looked at me, perhaps deciding it was better for me to know. "The Deplorable Word turned the living into stone."

The spoon clattered out of my suddenly clumsy grasp and I thought hard on music to keep from recalling the word. "Wha-?" I asked stupidly. "But...her wand!"

Apparently I looked as stupid as I felt, because he smiled faintly. "Was infused with that power so that she could focus it on an individual being. She found, too, that the ceremony necessary for the Word's use on Charn was pointless here, making it more responsive to her command."

I thought of Peter isolated and surrounded at Beruna, the White Witch all clad in mail and Aslan's shorn mane striding towards him, her wand at the ready to steal his life. The thought of what my actions that day had prevented made me positively dizzy.

"I am _so_ glad I broke that wand!" I exclaimed a little fiercer than I intended.

A deep chuckle answered. "As am I, my child."

"Couldn't anyone have used it, then?"

"Only someone with a knowledge of the Deplorable Word, and even then only after they wrestled the wand from her."

I snorted at the notion of anyone getting that close to Jadis. "Good luck." A horrid thought struck me. _I_ had that knowledge now, not that I wanted it. The fact that it existed anywhere, especially in my memories, frightened me to an extreme. I looked at Aslan desperately. "It _is_ broken? It won't work no matter what...please?"

He knew what I was thinking. Besides the music, anyway.

"The wand's ability to conduct the Deplorable Word was destroyed when you broke it, Edmund. You need not fear."

I opened my mouth and he checked me. "One more question, then finish your soup."

"If I know this - ow!" I hissed and leaned far over as the sound of the Deplorable Word passed unbidden and unwelcome through my thoughts again, sending a stabbing pain through my skull. I took a few gulping breaths, but there was no blood this time. I held the bridge of my nose until the discomfort faded a little. "Why aren't I a statue out in the garden right now?"

"You cannot use it upon yourself. And I doubt your sisters would leave you outside."

I smirked, for Aslan rarely joked, but I supposed not even he could resist. I should have thought of that on my own and not wasted my question. Blast. I dropped my hand in annoyance, then snuck in one more. I wouldn't be Edmund Randall Pevensie if I didn't at least _try_. "So why does it hurt?"

He indulged me. "It was not meant for the Son of Man to know. It is too powerful for your kind to wield. Jadis was not Human. In addition, part of the price she paid for knowledge of the Word was the inability to feel pain the way you and I do."

That surprised me not at all. I picked up the spoon. "Small wonder she enjoyed it so much."


	20. Blood From a Stone

Note: As always, I take liberties with Narnia's geography, as well as mixing and matching the books and the movie to suit my needs.

**Blood From a Stone**

_I knew this place. I had seen it, fought a mighty battle here. Both I and my order had been named after it._

_Sir Edmund of the How, of the Most Noble Order of the Table._

_I stood atop the unbroken Stone Table looking down at the gentle hill called Aslan's How and the wooded glen that surrounded it._

_Only I had never imagined it like _this

_Moonlight and torches illuminated the frenzied scene. Hundreds of foul, unclean, and fell beasts danced about: Harpies, Giants, Werewolves, Hags, Boggles and Talking Animals, Magical Creatures, Trees, hideous things for which I had no name. This was the army of the White Witch, hideous ranks of dark and depraved beings that were - quite literally in this case - the stuff of nightmares. They danced and milled about, howling and gibbering and slobbering in some wild celebration. I looked around, trying to find the focus of their obscene ecstacy._

"_Stop!" cried an imperious voice I recognized instantly. I whipped around. Jadis, all clad in black, stood atop the Table. She was looking down into the crush of grotesque creatures on the steps leading to the platform, a triumphant sneer on her face. "Let him first be shaved!"_

_Avoiding her sight, I stumbled to the edge of the Stone Table._

_Aslan._

_Helpless, bound with leather ropes, he lay on the ground as Ginarrbrik cut his golden mane away. The Black Dwarf was cackling madly as he sheared away great hanks of long hair and threw them this way and that. The crowd laughed with sadistic glee as they teased and berated their victim. I collapsed to my knees, trying to scream, but in this dream I was mute._

"_Muzzle him!"_

_Shorn, diminished, Aslan was no less noble and he offered no resistance as his mouth was bound closed. One bite and he could have taken off the offenders' limbs, but he did nothing. That seemed to infuriate his captors all the more and they lashed out, beating and kicking and mocking him without mercy. They spit on him, hissing savage curses and jeers._

_His only response was to close his eyes._

_This would have been me. It had almost been me. The knife had been sharpened for my throat the night Oreius had rescued me. Death had been only moments away._

_This was all for me. All because of me._

_"Bring him to me."_

_Bound, muzzled, beaten and bleeding, the raving crew of beasts began hauling him towards the Table. They pushed and pulled and kicked, straining to get him onto the platform, letting his head bang against each step._

_And still, he did nothing._

_With a smear of blood following him the dragged Aslan onto the Stone Table and bound him tightly to it. I huddled off to the side of the Table, shivering and sick with anxiety for what I knew would happen. What had to happen. I did not want to be witness to this, but Jadis' blood controlled my dreams now and I had no choice until some mercy roused me from sleep._

_Silence fell at a gesture from the White Witch. Then a strange, pulsing beat of staves on the ground began, growing in strength and speed. It was primal and dark. Jadis bent close to Aslan's ear, her expression both amused and pitying, her voice almost loving._

"_You know, Aslan, I'm a little disappointed in you. Fool! Did you think that by all this you could save the Human traitor? You are giving me your life and saving no one. When you're dead, what will prevent me from killing him as well? Who will take him out of my hands then?"_

_He looked at her sadly._ _She cast him a contemptuous little smirk. "So much for love."_

_I felt sick. I wanted to throw myself over Aslan, shield him with my own body and sacrifice just as he had shielded me. Jadis rose and shouted out to her crazed followers, __"Tonight the Deep Magic will be appeased, but tomorrow we will take Narnia forever!"_

_The crowd of hideous creatures was tense, eager for blood. I could not convince myself this was all just a dream. Aslan's flanks were heaving as he panted and I fully understood the instinctive fear gripping him. Knowing what was coming was the worst torture of all. I was an authority on it._

"_And in that knowledge, despair...and DIE!"_

_She was speaking to Aslan, but looking at me._

_The knife plunged down. Aslan jerked, eyes wide in shock and pain. I gasped at the same instant, knowing what it felt like._

_Despair..._

_It couldn't be said that she had won...she simply hadn't lost..._

...if I despair, I'll think of you and remember you love me.

_Peter._

_For one instant, no more than a heartbeat of time, I saw Peter sick and hurt and crouching in feeble shelter from a storm, leaning against Phillip's leg. He was in despair._

_And he smiled._

_How could the loss of all hope unite us like this? Was it simply our common blood? This curse? Aslan? _

_"The Great Cat is dead!"_

_I was snatched back to the Stone Table. Aslan's blood spilled over the stone, down the steps. The Fell Creatures celebrated as Jadis watched her enemy die. Suddenly, strangely, in a moment of agony and clarity, I understood Jadis better than anyone ever had, and steely determination began to take the place of fear._

_I would not lose. Not my sanity, not my life,_ not my brother

_Not to Jadis._

_She had helped make this person King Edmund the Just and I would make her regret it._

_I would not lose._

_"General, prepare your troops for battle!" the White Witch ordered, then added with a vicious glimmer in her eyes, "However short it may be."_

_I glanced over at the huge Minotar as he grunted orders and the raving crowd began to surge away from the Table. I lingered by Aslan's limp body as Jadis swept past. Knowing the future did not ease the agony of this moment. I looked up and the White Witch cast me a sneering smile, pausing before me. She gestured at the shorn Lion. _

_"A king needs servants, Edmund."_

_Yes, he did. And here I stood. I could not think of a higher calling than to serve my brother and through him Narnia and Aslan._

_She frowned as she realized her words didn't have the desired effect on me, for I completely misunderstood what she was implying. So she showed me instead. _

_I woke up just as she moved to run me through with the Stone Knife._

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I gasped and struggled to free myself of the dream before she could complete the blow. Voices were calling my name, ordering, pleading with me to wake up. I felt a light slap on my cheek. I sat up, panting and trying to calm my panicked heartbeat a moment before Susan cried,

"Edmund, it's midnight!"

Not again!

Not quite. I hadn't slept through it this time. Oh, marvelous. I got to enjoy being stabbed twice in a night.

I barely had time to seize upon Susan's hand and brace myself for the gory impact, unable to address anything but the fall of the curse once again upon me. A scream escaped me at the rush of pain and blood. Lucy was already poised and waiting to spare me as much as possible. Instead of lying there letting the cordial heal me so that I could be sacrificed tomorrow, though, as soon as I could think and feel again, the same resolve I'd felt in the dream flowed through me.

"Get Oreius," I gasped, fighting the hands trying to hold me down. I was still bleeding as I shook them off. Confused looks were exchanged and I lost all patience. Peter was injured and fading. We had no time. _He_ had no time.

And I couldn't bear this any longer.

"Get the general _NOW!_" I commanded, and Silvo darted out of the room at a run, glad, I was certain, to escape.

"Edmund?" asked Aslan, an island of calm amidst the heightened emotions in the room.

"Peter," I panted, staring at the Lion, trying not to picture him shorn of his mane. "Peter is hurt. He needs help. I'm sending Oreius."

My sisters gasped. Aslan nodded and said nothing more and I was grateful for his faith. Susan wiggled her fingers and I realized I was still clutching her hand crushing tight. "Sorry." I loosened my hold, but she didn't let go. On my other side Lucy sat close, staring at me. Concern was written on her face, concern for both her brothers. I took her hand in mine in an attempt to reassure her. It was then I realized I had never made it beyond Susan's room and I had bled on her covers. Blast. Minutes later the bedroom was filled by the general of Narnia's army, unceremoniously yanked out of his sleep.

"King Edmund?" he asked directly.

"Go to the Western March, General. Send out scouts. Peter is hurt and needs help. Leave immediately."

Aslan bless this Centaur. He nodded without hesitation or question, his attention on me alone. "Celer is on patrol in that area now. Kanell and Cloudcaster will remain here. I'll bring some Bats and Hawks to keep you informed."

"Thank you," I whispered, knowing that everything that could be done, would be.

He bowed and left. My self-control seemed to desert me the moment his rapid hoof beats disappeared and I began to react to everything I had seen in the dream. The horror of it, the magnitude of Aslan's sacrifice, struck me with all the force of a physical blow as I looked at the Lion. I was shaking so hard that Susan pulled me into her arms and held me tight despite my bloodied tunic. I couldn't even hold her in return. I hadn't the strength. Lucy hugged us both, laying her head on my shoulder.

"Did you dream, Edmund?" whispered Lucy.

I nodded, squeezing my eyes tightly shut against the tears that wanted to spill down. Was I really only eleven? I felt closer to ninety.

"What of?" she wondered innocently.

"The Stone Table," I answered with effort. Nothing more needed to be said. I opened my eyes to see Aslan gazing upon with sadness and sympathy. A sob wracked my body and I groaned, for the spasm was pure agony in my chest. Lucy inched closer, holding me tighter.

"Shh." Susan rocked me gently, smoothing my hair, easing my terrors. "Shh, Edmund. Everything will be all right."

Oh, to be so sure! Aslan stepped over to the bed and laid his head against me, his mane so warm and soft. I reached out and touched his smooth muzzle.

"I'm sorry," I sniffed, refusing to cry.

He understood my meaning. Pressing his face closer against me, he said, "I would do the same again."


	21. The Last Full Measure

**The Last Full Measure**

The next few days were the strangest I had ever known simply because my only goal was to survive them. I moved through the hours in a kind of daze. Not until much later did I find out that not only was Aslan by my side, one of my sisters was constantly with me even though there was little they could do to help and for the most part I was unaware of their presence. I could barely eat for the nausea gripping me. When I was awake Susan read to me from the books of law or Lucy told me stories. Anything to keep me from thinking the Deplorable Word, though I really was too exhausted to understand a word they said. When I slept the nightmare that was the Empress Jadis swept down and dragged me off to relive every moment I'd spent with her or scenes from her awful past.

Every night at midnight, the deathless spell tried once again to fulfill its function and kill me.

And every night Lucy thwarted the White Witch's plans and prolonged the spell another day.

I needed Peter more desperately than ever. We all did. I suspected he needed us just as badly. In my mind I prayed to Aslan to grant Oreius the speed of a Unicorn, even though the Lion himself sat beside me all the day. I was too tired to voice my longing properly, and so I let my emotions speak for me. I think he understood, and I think my prayer was granted.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

_"And how is our little king?"_

_I was gagged and bound hand and foot to a bloody tree that had to be the lumpiest hunk of wood in all of Narnia. Ginarrbrik must have chosen it for that soul reason. What on earth kind of question was that? Lion's mane, _why_ did I have to sleep? Better yet, why did _she_ have to be here every time I closed my eyes? The dreams were so much more real than waking, and I was so much more alert here than when I was awake. It was galling._

_She slowly circled the tree, making it a point to constantly touch me, to drag her fingers along my arms or caress my throat and face just because she knew I hated it. I would have twisted away but there was nowhere to go. Her hands were clammy and unclean and the feel put me in mind of walking through cobwebs._

_"So...have you been enjoying my memories? My sister? Aslan? My castle? The dungeon?" she added with a small laugh._

Not hardly_, I thought, not only mute but gagged in this rotten dream._

_"So now you alone in all of creation know the Deplorable Word. Does that not thrill you, my dear Edmund?"_

_Aslan! Why couldn't she just leave me alone?_

You're all she has left_, my own voice echoed in my thoughts._

_My look must have said all, because she slapped me soundly across the face, then gripped me by the hair. It didn't seem fair that I could feel pain and think clearly and understand in a dream but not speak._

_"We'll look at it as my little gift to you," she mocked sweetly. "Gifts were given to your siblings, I know, and I wouldn't want you to feel left out of their cozy little circle. You did take the power away from me, after all. I'm just making sure you keep it forever."_

_She traced my cheek with an icy finger. "You see, little king, once you know some things you can never unknow them. Knowledge of such power lingers on and on and does not fade. You may very well live long enough to break my spell, but the Deplorable Word will always be with you. Just think, some day you may be tempted to try it out. It works here without ceremony or sacrifice. All it needs is desire...or need. Perhaps in battle, to save your precious brother. Perhaps to save your sisters. Perhaps simply to save the day. Just one word dwelling in your memory. You'll always know it, and wonder...dare I use this power? Can I use it for good?"_

_She released me and I looked away defiantly. As if using the Word wouldn't flatten me as effectively as everyone who heard it. I'd be wiping out my own forces. Did she think I was a complete idiot? She laughed, her hand wandering down to my exposed neck. Despite all my efforts at self-control I shuddered. There were memories of my time with her that I wanted to forget as desperately as I wanted to forget the Deplorable Word, memories of her touch, the icy feel of her, her laughter at my helplessness and terror..._

_"There are other things you'll never unknow, darling Edmund, much as you might wish to forget. You may banish me from your body, but you cannot banish your thoughts." She laughed at me again. "Always remember me, dear child, and everything you experienced in my presence. Narnia may be out of my grip, but come what may _you_ will be mine forever."_

_No. I refused. I had lived through too much to succumb to her taunts. I belonged to myself and my family and Narnia. I belonged to Aslan._

_"Why don't I say the word for you again, just to make certain you know it?" Once again she leaned in close to my ear, her breath cold on my neck. "You always were the weakest of your family. You know that, don't you? This will just make you powerful. You wanted power, didn't you?"_

_Once upon a time, perhaps._

_Then she whispered the first syllable of the Deplorable Word in my ear. _

_Instinctively, unwillingly, my thoughts finished the sound._

_It didn't kill me, but part of me wished it would._

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I woke up to the sound of a wounded animal, horrible and pained, only to realize I was the one making those tortured moans.

"Oh, Edmund..."

I could barely hear. I felt heat on the side of my face and a damp cloth dabbing at my neck. Just thinking the Deplorable Word made my ear bleed. My head hurt so much I barely noticed. I realized a moment later I was on Susan's lap and I would get blood on her gown. I tried to move but she held me in place with embarrassing ease.

"Lie still," she ordered.

I grumbled something but obeyed. Finally I looked up at her. "I don't ever want to fall asleep again, Su."

She smiled faintly, wiping my jaw clean of blood. "I'll see what I can do."

My own, low voice sounded hollow to my aching ears. "I can't take this much longer."

"You won't have to," she promised.

"Did Aslan leave?"

"The moment Manon arrived." Her voice was full of hope. Manon, one of the Gryphon scouts, had come rushing to Cair Paravel with word that Cyn had located Peter and Phillip, and Oreius was heading into the Western Wild to find them and bring them back to Narnia. Susan had wept with joy, Lucy had jumped and shouted, and they both raced to Lion Chapel to say a prayer of thanks. I just woke up long enough to grunt before dropping back asleep, an unavoidable and unfortunate mistake on my part since it brought me to my present condition.

"Is it still today?" My sense of time was long gone. I had absolutely no idea of what day or time it was unless it was the stroke of midnight. I hadn't stepped past these few rooms for what seemed like ages. This had been the worst week of my entire life, one torturous blur of pain, nightmares, and blood.

"It's always today, Ed. But yes, Aslan left this morning. Come on. It's almost time for tea and we're taking it early today. Can you eat something?"

"No," I said, "but I'll keep you and Lucy company."

She didn't press me and I was grateful. She just bundled me in blankets and set me near by the fire and gave me ginger tea to settle my stomach. I could only submit, lacking the will and the energy to growl at her fussing over me. My little sister was so animated and bubbly that I couldn't help but smile as she told me all over again about Manon's arrival. I wanted to hear it. She could have repeated herself a thousand times and the impact of her words would be just as welcome with each retelling.

"...Cyn reported he spotted them last night, about twenty miles outside of the Western March. Phillip whinnied over and over again to get his attention and he said Peter was thin and pale and hurt, just like you said he was, Edmund..."

And on and on all through tea. I noticed Lucy was adding more details to the report until it had gone from a few, bare-boned, matter-of-fact sentences to a veritable epic poem. Later on, sitting in the bedroom I shared with my brother, I tried to sort through the emotions gripping me. Perhaps today, tomorrow at the latest, Peter would be back in Narnia. Had he brought the apple? He must have. Peter Pevensie would not have returned otherwise. More importantly, though, I would have my brother back. My every longing would be fulfilled and I would be free.

_Narnia may be out of my grip, but come what may you will be mine forever._

At least, I prayed I would be free. Even so, Peter was back. I tried to think of what I would say to him and I came up with a complete blank, sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling in speechless delight. I was still smiling when Lucy opened the door and peeked in.

"How do you feel?"

"Horrid. How do you feel, old girl?"

With a laugh she climbed atop the bed beside me. "Excited. Oreius will protect him, Edmund," she said, guessing at my thoughts. "Nothing more can happen to him. He may even be back in Narnia by now!"

"I know." I lay down across the bed and pillowed my head on my arm. "Tell it to me again, Lu."

She smiled with gleeful anticipation. I wanted to hear her version of the news and she wanted to tell it. She pulled the covers over me and tucked me in before lying against me, small and warm and pretty.

"Well, Susan and I were sitting in our history class with Cheroom. We were learning about the founding of Anvard when two of the Cat pages and a Hummingbird came rushing into the room unannounced..."


	22. Home is the Hunter

**Home is the Hunter**

I woke up hours later. The room was dark but for one lamp over on Peter's desk. I was still swathed in blankets and dressed in layers of clothes and for the first time in ages I felt warm and rested. It was wonderful. I stretched out carefully. Every inch of me still hurt, but it wasn't quite as bad as earlier in the day and breathing wasn't as difficult as it had been of late. Indeed, it was a vast improvement because my head no longer ached so much as to make me feel nauseated. I blinked, luxuriating in the relative lack of discomfort. I had not felt half this good in weeks.

Then I realized why: I hadn't dreamed. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I had closed my eyes without seeing Jadis in all her twisted beauty coming to torment me and haunt me. Actually, I had slept myself out. Thank Aslan. I wondered if by some miracle the Deplorable Word was somehow removed as well, but one thought and the old pain slammed down like a guillotine and I was forced to abandon that particular hope. I groaned as I saw blood from my nose on my gloved hand. Still, the stab of pain faded. I decided not to question my relatively good fortune and just lay still for a while, putting pressure on the nosebleed and thinking about music.

When the door opened I looked up. Silvo entered the room. He seemed surprised to see me awake and alert and with a pang I realized it had been a very long while since I had been either.

"King Edmund! I was coming to wake you. It's an hour to midnight."

"Thank you, Silvo." I sat up gingerly and pulled off the bloodied gloves to run a hand through my hair. "Has there been any word from Aslan?"

"Nothing yet, Sire." The Faun bustled about, lighting more lamps and probably calculating how to get me washed up and into clean clothes. He came and stood before me, gazing at me with frank and open curiosity and carefully snagging the gloves so he could clean them. He handed me a damp cloth to wipe the blood off my face, wise enough not to try it himself. "Your Majesty is looking better."

"I _feel_ better, Silvo. I'm not entirely well, but at least I slept and actually got some rest for once in...Oh, I don't know how long."

"Months, my king," he provided.

"Months," I agreed. I looked at him closely. "You want these clothes, don't you?"

"You _have_ been wearing them for days, King Edmund."

"I bet Peter's been wearing his for months."

He shuddered. "Then it falls to you to set the example, Sire, and change."

I laughed and began to peel off the layers of clothing. He happily fetched me my own clothes and helped me make myself more presentable, Martil arriving to give him a hand. I was sitting on the bed when Susan and Lucy entered to wait with me. They both smiled to see me up and about and settled on either side of me. I took each of their hands, releasing them only when I peeled the tunic off in anticipation of midnight.

"How long since Peter left?" I asked abruptly.

"Four months," Susan replied.

I sighed. "Feels like a lifetime."

"But it's done," said Lucy.

"Let it be done," I softly quoted Peter, thinking of him seated beside me on the balcony railing. My sisters hadn't been witness to the scene and so didn't recognize it, rather thinking I had uttered a prayer. I suppose in a way I had.

I tensed, anticipating midnight. The girls were still as we waited.

And waited.

And...

I looked up, knowing I was frowning. "Isn't it midnight?"

My sisters and I exchanged confused looks. I ought to be dying again by now, oughtn't I? I stood up, looking for the valets. "Silvo! What time is it?"

I heard the Faun check the water clock, exiled from the bedroom because the faint noise it made annoyed Peter like nothing else, and he hurried into the bedroom. "'Tis...a full five minutes past midnight, King Edmund."

I stared at him. "You're certain?"

Silvo nodded. "Yes, Majesty."

I stood in amazement, incapable of speech. I turned to Susan and Lucy, looking down at the ugly scar on my chest. I hadn't been stabbed. I touched the spot, my hand trembling. The girls reached across to each other, holding hands. Their faces were shining with the same awe I was feeling. This could only mean one thing...

"He's back!" I finally managed. "Susan! Lucy! Peter's back! He's back! He's brought the apple! He's home!"

Lucy let out an ear-piercing squeal and threw herself into my arms. I lifted her clear off the ground as Susan gave a yell and hugged us both. We stood celebrating for a long moment, joy filling me as never before. Finally, grinning like an idiot all the while, I put Lucy down. I knew what I had to do.

"Martil! Martil!"

"Sire?" Both valets came at a run, torn between excitement and panic.

"Pack me some clothes. Get word to the stables," I ordered. "Have my horse saddled and ready. I'm setting out immediately. Alert the Royal Guard and have Bats sent to bring word to Aslan."

They gaped in scandalized shock. This was the very last thing they had expected to disrupt their precious routine and for a moment they didn't know what to do. I had gone from death's door to shouting orders in a span of hours and they were absolutely flummoxed.

"King Edmund," bleated Silvo, at a complete loss, "It's midnight!"

"I know, " I smirked, enjoying their confounded expressions for the first time in months, "and I'm going to join my brother."

"You don't even know for certain where he is!" Susan countered.

"So?" I replied, wondering what that had to do with it. Really, the details girls worried over. "That's what I have Bats for. Aslan was going to the Lantern Waste. Three days and I'll be there."

"Three days?" exclaimed Lucy. "You can't ride there in three days!"

I struggled back into my tunic. "A _palfrey_ can't make it in three days, Lucy. A proper steed can. I'm taking Jett."

"You can't go alone!"

Hadn't she heard me ask for a guard? I shrugged. "I'm sure I'll be surrounded by Dogs every step of the way."

"Edmund, you're not strong enough!" argued my older sister.

I stared at her. "Not strong enough? Susan, I just spent four and a half months being tortured. If that's not strong...what is?"

She seemed to realize what she'd said, and I gave her a look that let her know I understood her concerns. Truly I did even though understanding and complying were two unrelated things. Odds were my tired, sore body would give out from under me soon, but by this point I was used to that.

"Peter needs me _now_. I'm leaving the moment I'm ready. Pack your things and follow me in the morning if you want. I'll send word as I hear it."

"But -"

She hesitated, defeated, knowing I was right. I did feel bad for snapping, but she was overcautious at times. I did have something of an olive branch to offer her, though.

"Silvo!"

The Faun hurried into the room. Either he was happy at the prospect of getting Peter back or glad to be getting rid of me, I couldn't tell, but he wore an excited expression.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Please send word to the kitchen. I'm _starving!"_

Susan broke into a grateful smile, letting her breath out in a sob as she hugged me. Lucy likewise burst into laughter and threw her arms around my middle. I knew they had been waiting ages for such an announcement.

"Right away, King Edmund!"

Still in the protection of my sisters' arms and their love, I closed my eyes with a sigh.

_Let it be done, Peter._

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Little over an hour later I stepped outside into the cold, crisp air. I stopped in my tracks as I realized autumn was almost gone. For a moment I stood still, taking in the quiet night. It had been well over a week since I'd last been outside, I realized, and at least a month since I had gone riding. I was in for a sore time of it.

Escorted by several Satyrs and Fauns, I hurried to the stables where soldiers were milling about by torchlight, Kanell chief among them. I scanned the sky, but there wasn't enough moonlight for me to spot any Bats. Since that was the case, I did what everyone in Narnia knew to do when they wanted a Bat courier: I clapped my hands once, paused, then twice more, then dropped my pack and stood with my arms extended wide. The clapping was to catch their attention and I stood this way to maximize their landing area as they need a big target outside of their normal perches. I didn't wait long and in a few moments I felt a faint impact and Queel, the little brown Bat that was my usual courier to Brickit, landed on my cape and crawled up to my shoulder.

"King Edmund," she said. I could tell by her small, piercing voice that she was surprised and happy to see me up.

"Queel, has word been sent to Aslan?"

"It has, Majesty."

"I'll need a relay between myself and Aslan and my sisters."

"Bathelstane has already set one up and our numbers are ready."

"Excellent. Please go tell my sisters the queens that they can expect to hear from me when I get news or when I stop. And I'd like three couriers to accompany me. They can ride under my cape if they like."

"Right away, Majesty."

She crawled into my open palm and I handed her to Kanell as he approached. He held her high in the air to give her enough room for a sweeping launch into the sky. Then he looked me up and down.

"It is good to see you, King Edmund," he said, meaning it. I smiled. I had missed him as well.

"Thank you, Captain. I'm going to join Aslan and my brother at the Lantern Waste. My sisters should be leaving to follow me in the morning. Until we return you and Cloudcaster are in charge of the Cair's defense."

"Understood, Sire."

"Have you assembled me a party?"

"Xati will head the troop. I've chosen your escort for speed and Jett is saddled. You'll have to live on field rations for a day or two."

I shrugged. The field rations in Narnia were delicious. Peter loved them. Besides, what I ate was hardly a worry, just so long as I did eat something. "Thank you." I hesitated, then asked uncertainly, "I don't suppose you know where Shafelm is?"

He shook his head, amused. "I do not, my king."

"Oh. Well. Please find me a suitable sword and belt." I stood there waiting, watching the soldiers bustle about and trying to control my excitement and the desire to just up and leave. I saw a Centaur leading Jett and I hurried over to greet the mare. "I'll take her, Gudrun," I said, relieving her of the reins. Jett huffed and pushed against me in greeting, anxious to be off and nibbling at my clothes and hair affectionately. I rubbed her soft nose, eager to give her back to Peter and get Phillip back.

Then I spotted Yoli and the inevitable troop of Dogs arriving and the noise level shot up to an unholy dim. "Yoli!"

The harrier rushed over to me, tail wagging. "King Edmund! You're up! You're better!"

"Not quite better yet, but well enough, thank you. Yoli, I want your Dogs to be quiet as we run. I know you can all run without barking at the same time. Pray exercise that ability, sir, my head is aching all ready."

"Of course, King Edmund!"

"And Yoli!"

"Sire?"

"If they insist on following Jett, they must keep up. We will not stop or slow."

He bowed. "I'll tell them, Majesty."

I had no faith that the promised silence would be honored for long, but it was worth a try. Kanell returned a few minutes later with a sword for me. As I buckled it about my waist he said, "I've spoken to Xati, and now I'll say the same thing to you: when you grow weary, rest. You are rising from a sick bed and you must not push yourself to the point of collapse again. You'll do the High King and Narnia no good if you cannot reach him."

"Thank you, Captain," I replied, knowing he'd probably said a lot more than that to Xati. "Send a Bat if you hear anything. And please make sure my sisters bring Marsk along for Peter."

"I shall, King Edmund. Aslan protect you and your brother."

I smiled in thanks then looked to Xati. "Ready, Lieutenant?"

"We are, Sire!" she called back. "Royal guard! Fall in!" She cast them a stern look, then shouted, "Move out!"

A better order I had never heard.


	23. Hounded and Harried

**Hounded and Harried**

I would be less than honest if I said I remembered a great deal about my ride out to the Lantern Waste, just key events that punctuated a long, hard journey. Within minutes of setting out I was cold and hungry and saddle sore. I didn't care a whit, so elated was I to be outside and alive and on my way to see Peter. The only thing I cared about was making good time. Kanell had sent scouts out the moment he'd gotten word and they met us every few miles and guided us further along the darkened trail, sure-footed Panthers and Owls and Gryphons.

An hour before dawn one of the Bat couriers that rode with me, tucked snugly under my cape and clinging to my back for warmth, whispered that another Bat was coming. I told Xati, who called a halt, and I clapped in rhythm for the courier to find me. A few moments later a huge, extremely fuzzy Flying Fox landed on my shoulder and arm. Jett spooked slightly, but one of the Centaurs seized her bridle and calmed her.

"Gil Mivven," I greeted, transferring the Bat so he could perch under my forearm. "What word?"

"It gives me joy to see you, King Edmund," he replied. "I bring word from the Lantern Waste. Your brother has met Aslan there and he has planted the apple he brought back from the Western Wild."

That explained why I had slept earlier, but the fact that Peter was back in Narnia was not news to me, nor what I most wanted to hear. "And how fares my brother?"

"Poorly, I am sorry to report. He is exhausted and starved and has a broken arm. His fever defies the healers' craft and he is fading."

Damn. I took a deep breath, collecting myself, well aware every ear was listening. "Gil Mivven, hurry on to Cair Paravel. Make certain you speak to Kanell and my sisters. Tell the queens I said to hurry. I mean that! And tell Lucy that if Susan hasn't finished packing to leave without her."

"I shall, Majesty."

When he was gone I looked to Xati. The Centaur had a fierce look in her eyes and I knew she fully understood my burning desire to reach my brother as quickly as possible. Glancing around me, I realized they all did.

"Let's go," I ordered.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

We lost some of the Dogs as we went and despite my threat I made certain they were left with friendly Animals that would look after the silly beasts. Yoli was silent, knowing full well that anything he said would only aggravate me more. I _had_ warned them about keeping up with the rest of us.

Finally we halted around Pillar Wood, which is north of Beruna and named after the many towering tupelo and tulip trees growing there. I could barely move I was so sore. Jett, for her part, was still excited and could have gone on all night. Xati set up camp and gave directions for dinner as I tended to the horse. I was almost dropping in my tracks when a Satyr took over for me and I gladly, gratefully relinquished the task to him. I sent one of the Bats to locate my sisters and let them know where I was and gave the other two an apple to eat.

There was time before dinner and with a nod to Xati I stepped away from the ring of soldiers. She knew I wouldn't go far, but at the moment I wanted very much to be alone with my thoughts.

I came upon a brace of ironwood trees and here I stopped, drawing the sword I wore and kneeling on one knee on the damp moss. This weapon was not Shafelm, but it still bore a lion etched into the blade. It would do.

"Aslan," I whispered into the falling dusk, leaning heavily on the sword, "thank you for staying with me all these months. I'm not sure how Peter or my sisters would have managed without you here. Peter...he can be thick sometimes but he needs me as much as I need him. I'm glad I finally realized that. I need him very badly right now, Aslan. I've never been away from him for so long. Thank you for listening and your advice and helping me to be a better king...and a better brother. I wish I had the words and the strength to say these things to you directly, but I usually don't think about this kind of thing until after the fact. But I think you know, just like Peter knows. I'll try my best to find a way to say it, though."

I lowered my head to my hands, resting my forehead against the cross-guard of the sword. I was tired and so very, very full emotionally; my thoughts were mere random ideas. I could only hope the Lion heard and understood what I was trying (and, I felt, failing) to convey. I was at once grateful and excited and anxious and weary, my chest still painful but nothing like two days ago. My head ached from exhaustion and hunger, but I was used to those sensations and could ignore them for a while. I wanted to sort myself out and focus on the issue of reaching Peter. I whispered on to the falling darkness to the Lion that said he always listened, and I found comfort and release in confession.

"Aslan, I did not start well here. Thank you for your love and for giving me the chance to redeem myself. Thank you for a brother and sisters that never gave up on me and gave me reason to_ want_ to redeem myself. My life before being made king doesn't seem quite real...I was someone else, wasn't I? Someone unkind and bitter. Sometimes I wish I could forget what I was, but then I'd never have that guilt to keep me from repeating myself.

"Please help me to become a judge. I know right from wrong. I've _lived_ both, for pity's sake. Please give me the strength to see justice done. Oreius said I was a man of truth. I don't ever want to make him a liar. I will _never_ make him a liar. The truth is hard enough. Justice must be much harder. I promise you I will do all I can never to bring shame on the title you've given me. I will be the shield that protects Narnia and Peter. Please keep him safe and let him get better soon. I-"

"King Edmund! There you are! We found you! King Edmund! King Edmund! We're back! You missed us! We're back! Do you see?"

I started out of my reverie as half a dozen creatures burst through the trees towards me, all of them shouting out my name and darting around happily. Instantly I was on my feet, the sword at the ready.

Dogs. All the Dogs we had left behind. They had caught up. Even before they burst onto the once-serene grove the forest around me erupted as members of the royal guard - never distant but far more subtle and respectful of my privacy – came rushing to my defense. The Dogs halted in shock at seeing naked swords and spears leveled at them. I let out a miserable sigh, the moment for serenity and prayer shattered and my irritation at the Dogs immeasurable.

"Lower your arms, good my guard," I muttered before someone got hurt, wiping off the tip of the borrowed sword and sheathing it. Without another word I strode back to the camp, the guardsmen following and the chastised Dogs bringing up the rear. Once she read my expression and body language Xati had a scorching glare for the returned Dogs that had disturbed my vigil. I said little at dinner and retired to the tent set aside for me immediately after.

As I climbed into the bed warmed by cloth-wrapped rocks from the camp's fire, I winged one final prayer to Aslan.

_Great Lion, give me patience..._

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The next day passed much the same, which is to say I was cold, sore, and supremely annoyed at the pack of Dogs following us. Despite repeated orders for quiet, they could not help their own enthusiasm and barked ceaselessly. I was tempted to have the guard arrest the lot of them, but I had promised Aslan I'd make an effort to put up with them and arresting them would simply be avoiding the issue. So they would bark, I would glare at Yoli, he would silence the lot of them, and half an hour later the cycle repeated itself.

We stopped to rest around noon and once again I removed myself from the main group, not wanting to inflict my anxieties on the soldiers. I knew they had to eat and rest, but I certainly wasn't happy about it. Given a choice, I would have pressed on until I collapsed. Luckily, Xati took the choice away.

I sat on a log and closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart and forcing myself to take some time and count my blessings. At this point just being awake and alert was a blessing, but I think the stern, stubborn, and loving care of our subjects was the foremost blessing right now.

Something approached and I looked up to see Yoli sitting a few feet away, his expression serious. I refrained from sighing.

"What is it, Yoli?"

"We've annoyed you, King Edmund."

"Yes, you have," I agreed, "but you'll notice we've all managed to survive somehow."

"I'm sorry you were disturbed last night. They didn't know you were praying. They were just so happy to see the troop again and you were the first one they came upon."

"I know," I said softly, feeling close to guilty. "But Yoli, there are times when I, and my brother and sisters, need to be alone."

He frowned. "You _want_ to be alone?" he asked in amazement, all manners forgotten at this astounding announcement.

I remembered I was addressing a pack animal. "Yes. We think better sometimes when we're alone. We Humans don't need constant company."

"But that's so lonely!"

I could tell the harrier actually felt sorry for me. "Not always. Sometimes I'm my own best company. Besides, when I'm praying I'm hardly alone."

His brown eyes grew wide. "Did you want to be alone now?" he asked in a small, nervous voice, realizing he had invaded my privacy once again with his clumsy devotion.

"You're here," I replied quietly. "You may as well stay."

He came and sat close beside me, somehow managing to keep silent. I reached out and thumped his side, counting him among my blessings.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"King Edmund! King Edmund! A courier!"

I jerked awake instantly and scrambled for my boots. Hurrying outside I saw Xati standing with a huge Gryphon scout named Glynis. It hadn't been very long since I'd gone to bed, the moon wasn't much higher, but Glynis looked extremely worried for one of her kind. She bowed low to me.

"King Edmund, General Oreius' respectful compliments to your majesty. He bade me address you as Sir Edmund How and orders you, as a soldier of Narnia, to proceed with all haste to the Lantern Waste. Your brother's condition worsens. He has not taken food for days and his fever is mounting. Majesty, he is starving amidst plenty. General Oreius feels you may have more success caring for the High King than the healers."

Peter, you idiot! How was it I was related to anyone so dense?

Even before she was done I gestured to Xati to break camp. Her shouts roused the troop and they immediately set about leaving. There was no time to waste. In my last vision of Peter he had been terribly thin. What was left of him if he was starving? I was afraid and furious all at once.

"Glynis, find my sisters and tell them what you've told me, especially that bit about starving. Tell them I expect them to move out as soon as you reach them and I'll press on ahead through the night. Hurry!"

With a great swirl of dust and a rush of wind the Gryphon launched into the night sky, her shrill cry echoing off the hills. I didn't watch her go, but called out, "Bathelstane!"

Immediately the Chief Bat replied, "Here, Majesty!"

I turned, following the voice to where the two remaining Bat couriers hung in a tree like dark, misshapen fruit.

"You heard?" I demanded.

"Every word, my king," he said, already eager to be off.

"Good. Fly ahead to my brother. Bid him greetings and give him my love. As he clearly needs some motivation to care for himself, tell him from now on I'll only eat and drink as much as he does, so unless he wants me to starve to death right alongside him, EAT! Go! Send word back when he eats something."

Wide wings spread, Bathelstane bowed to me and dropped like a stone before fluttering up into the sky. He was the swiftest of the couriers and would not stop until he arrived. I reached up for the other Bat and she crawled onto my arm. Xati lead Jett up to me, holding her as I mounted. The whole troop, including all the Dogs, was ready.

"We're not stopping," I told them, and I received determined nods in reply. "Aslan grant us speed."


	24. Peter

**Peter**

We reached the Lantern Waste that afternoon.

I kept the Bats extremely busy dashing back and forth between Oreius and my sisters, who were almost a day behind us. No word of Peter having eaten reached my ears and so I went without. Xati didn't even try to tempt me with food. I was extremely tired - my legs ached, I was freezing cold, I had a splitting headache, and I was very hungry and thirsty. We left several Dogs behind as we pressed on relentlessly, but the remainder were so excited they made up for the loss and the noise levels were never noticeably diminished. With Peter back in Narnia I tried to persuade them they needn't follow Jett every step of the way, but they insisted they could only be released from their promise by Phillip. Xati, I think, was sorely tempted to tie them up and come back for them later (or not) and I could tell many of the royal guard had had quite enough of the canines. Unfortunately their pack leader, Yoli, was one of the ones left behind when he aggravated the old sprain in his leg, and so they became a study in anarchy.

Oreius and half a dozen Centaur soldiers met us at the edge of the wood covering the Lantern Waste and we paused for a few moments to greet them. The general was as expressive as a statue, which told me he was very, very nervous. He gave me a long, hard look as if to reassure himself that I wasn't on the verge of collapse again. I was close, but there was no way I was stopping now.

"How is Peter?" I asked wearily, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. I would have liked to dismount and stretch my legs but I doubted I'd be able to get back into the saddle again if I tried it.

"The same," Oreius replied grimly.

"Has he eaten anything?"

The Centaur shook his head. "Just water."

Without a word Xati handed me a skin of water and I took a long drink, glad for the break. Oreius clearly understood what that was about and likewise said nothing.

"How does he look?" I asked softly, almost afraid to know.

"As bad as you looked the day you sent me to the Western Marches."

Very bad, in other words. "And Phillip?"

Oreius smiled faintly. "He is resting, Sire. He fared better than the High King throughout. He was a very good choice of companion, Sir Edmund."

I smiled back, for that was a high compliment indeed from Narnia's only general and a war hero. I nodded in acknowledgment both for myself and Phillip. "Xati, I'm going on with Oreius. The rest of you can follow at your own pace."

"Of course, King Edmund," she answered, and I knew not a one of them would leave my side.

In less than an hour I caught sight of familiar territory and flashes of color through the bare trees as we came upon Aslan's encampment in the Lantern Waste. By now the Dogs had completely forgotten themselves and were barking and baying and running about madly despite all efforts to control them, causing my head to ache terribly. Who needed the Deplorable Word when there were Dogs in the world? Horns rang out announcing my arrival as we rode into the camp and a great crowd gathered. I recognized Felern, one of the army's healers, trying to shush the Dogs and in the midst of my fatigue and worry and frustration, I lost all patience.

_"Will you be quiet?" _I shouted in fury.

Jett paced nervously and Oreius seized her bridle. All around me the Dogs were silent, ears and tails drooping as they realized to a hound that they had broken their word from days ago and had been making an unholy din all along. A whimper or two of shame rose up, but they didn't dare make a sound because I'm certain one glance at my face would have told them I was in no mood for their shenanigans.

"Majesty," whispered Felern anxiously, "you'll waken your brother!"

I gave him my most disbelieving look and, like the dogs, he withered before it. We'd entered this camp with enough noise to be heard all the way in Tashbaan. "He's awake!" I shouted right back, not caring who felt the bite of my temper right now. I rounded on the pack of Dogs. "Not even Peter could sleep through the racket you've been making since we left Beruna and I command you _stop following me every time I go for a ride!"_

I made certain to grip Oreius' wrist before I tried dismounting. It was a very good thing I did so because his support was the only thing that kept me from falling into a heap the moment my boots touched the ground. The general steadied me and I took a few seconds to get my bearings and shake off the sense of dizziness.

"Ho! Felern! How fares my brother?"

Our pavilion was just a few steps away, but I very much wanted Peter to know in no uncertain terms that he was going to get better despite himself and that I hadn't gotten this saddle sore for him to sleep through my arrival.

"He...he is not doing well, King Edmund," Felern said softly, trying to get me to lower my voice. "He's taken some water and tea but he refuses to eat. He says he cannot."

Dammit, Peter! I felt a familiar, slow, angry burn spark deep inside me. How did he always manage to set me off like this? Without meaning to, even? I could understand his reluctance not to eat. I had been there myself for months, but I had always forced myself to consume _something_.

"What?" I demanded. "I think not!" I pointed imperiously at the Dwarf. "Fetch twice however much food you want in him right now and _I_ will take care of it."

Felern darted off. I caught the gleam in Oreius' eye and I knew the Centaur was extremely pleased even if I was being a bit childish.

"Well said, Sir Edmund How," he complimented, using the condensed version of my chivalric title. "I believe you'll find your brother awaiting you in your tent."

"I'd better," I grumbled, stalking off towards the red and gold tent. I threw back the entrance flaps.

And stopped dead in my tracks.

_Peter._

My anger vanished as if it had never existed as I stood there looking at my only brother. He was awake, lying in one of the hammocks that served as our beds in the field, and he was looking at me. His face was gray and weary and somehow he looked...old. He was so terribly, terribly thin and wasted, as if all the bloom of health that had been his four months ago had been leeched out of him. His once-rounded cheeks were sunken and he was a mass of bruises, but his eyes...his eyes betrayed his relief and joy at seeing me and when he slowly smiled that sweet, loving smile, I was completely undone.

Suddenly I was there beside him, sweeping him into my arms as I held him to me as tightly as I dared. He barely had the strength to hold me back and he was hampered by his broken arm, but he leaned against me, resting his head against mine. A choking tightness gripped my throat, my chest, and I could not hold back a gasping sob as he ran a comforting hand through my hair. I could feel his ribs under my hands, feel us both trembling with emotion. He seemed so small.

"Peter," I finally managed to gasp through my tears. "Oh, Peter!"

I could say nothing more. He had almost died. He may well be dying. All for me. Oh, Aslan, how could I be worth this sacrifice?

He seemed about to speak, then just shook his head and held me tighter, his fingers still brushing through my hair, giving and taking comfort until I could master my emotions again. I knew he envied my control, but I envied his release. I don't know how much time passed, but I could have stayed in that spot holding him forever.

Felern's arrival with a tray of steaming food ended that moment and started another. Reluctantly I drew away and held Peter at arm's length to get a decent look at him. Scrawny, hollow, bruised, and oh, good lord, his _hair_. My brother, my grossly conservative, natty, perfect, blond brother had hair so long it was tied back.

"You need a haircut!" I howled. "Leave the long hair to Susan."

He smiled at my expression of horror and disgust. "It's the very first thing I plan on doing once we get home."

His voice was hoarse and weak and to hide how greatly the sound disturbed me I said, "Good!" before pulling a small table over towards the bed for the tray of food. "Set it here, please. Thank you," I said to the Dwarf, dismissing him. I turned to my brother. "Breakfast, Peter."

He tried to evade. "What time is it?"

"It doesn't matter," I countered. "You haven't eaten today, so it's breakfast. Are you going to eat or am I going to feed it to you?"

"I'm not hungry, Ed," he said a little sadly.

I was far from impressed. "You? Peter Michael George Pevensie, not hungry?" I demanded crossly. "I'd sooner believe you don't feel like breathing, brother. Your problem is it's been so long since you had a decent meal your body's forgotten how to ask for one. I meant what I said by courier. I haven't eaten today either and _I'm_ hungry. I suggest you start now, because if you think I'm being a pest, wait until Susan gets here! _If she ever finished packing_**,"** I muttered, much to Peter's amusement.

I won the battle, though, and he slowly ate the bowl of soup I placed in his lap. It was delicious and filling and I felt better (and less prone to snap) when we were done with the meal. I took his bowl with a smile, for he had eaten it all as well as the bread served with it. I could tell he was exhausted again.

"Do you want to sleep?" I asked softly.

He nodded and lay back into his nest of pillows, pale against the dark fabric. I propped his broken arm up on a pillow of its own and pulled the covers over him so he was warm and snug, saying, "I have to go see Aslan. I came right to you. Then I have to check on Phillip. Oreius said he was a wise choice."

"He was," Peter whispered. His words slurred slightly, he was so very tired. "Very wise. He saved my life."

_And mine as well, Peter_, I thought, smiling at him in quiet delight. "I'll be back later," I whispered, watching him fall asleep. I stood next to him for a while, listening to his breaths, touching his fevered cheek to assure myself this moment was real and not some waking dream Jadis had planted in my mind to torment me. She had struck me down when I had been my most content and I feared I might wake up to...

No. My brother was here. Before me. I had held him. touched him. He was mine.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, once again refusing to give her power over me. This was real. Peter was real and he was home and he had brought the apple back with him.

"Thank you, Aslan, for my brother," I whispered, reluctant to leave. "I kept my promise, Peter," I said to his sleeping form. "I'm trying to forgive myself. Aslan said you could show me how. So you have to get better for both of us...and the girls...and Narnia. I love you more than anything in the world. Please get better." I leaned over and pressed my lips to his forehead in a lingering kiss, and for the first time in a very long time, I let myself cry.


	25. Phillip

For Almyra. Many thanks for the inspiration!

**Phillip**

Aslan greeted me happily when I entered his tent. The sight of him filled me with such relief that I barely finished my bow before I was hugging him.

"Oh, Aslan," I whispered, reaction setting in upon me, "he's so pale."

"But better for having seen you with his own eyes, child," he replied.

How did he always know to say exactly the right thing? I blinked back my tears, the tears I hadn't dared let Peter see lest it upset him while he was so deathly sick. I drew back, biting my lip as I tried to regain mastery of myself. My worries seemed to spill from my lips.

"Felern is anxious. The break isn't healing correctly and he thinks it may be infected."

"I know. I know, Edmund. Have faith that your brother has the strength to fight this battle as well. Your sisters are a day away. He will endure until then."

I nodded, sniffing and resisting the temptation to curl up in a ball and cry. Aslan cocked his head, then said,

"Come this way. There is something I would show you, young king."

We stepped out of the warm tent and into the wane winter sunlight, moving through the camp. I noticed quite a few of the tents had been moved about as if to accommodate more people. Oreius had moved the small camp from Caldron Pool over to here, it seemed, and brought all the scouts. There were quite a few Dryads and Nymphs about and they all greeted us with enthusiasm and delight. I was a little offended that they should be so happy when Peter was so very ill, but I reasoned there was really nothing they could do about it or for him and they were naturally bubbly creatures. After a moment I saw the reason for their joy and understood why they were so very pleased.

"There," said Aslan, sitting down and motioning with his head what he had brought me to see.

Elated Dryads bowed and sang out to me as they made room for me in the circle they had formed. In the center of their ring stood a sapling with a straight trunk, silvery bark, and rounded, blue and green leaves.

The Tree of Protection. I stared at it in wonder and amazement. It was almost as tall as me already. I stepped towards it slowly, glancing back at the smiling Dryads watching me.

"Can I . . .?"

"Yes, King Edmund!" called a beautiful, elderly Birch. "Please, touch it!"

I was almost afraid to lay a finger on it. The sapling was so very lovely and I had been consumed by darkness. It seemed that by touching it I would somehow do it harm. And yet it was here not just for Narnia, but for me. I had been the foremost reason Peter had brought this back.

I touched one of the leaves - a blue one, since I could scare believe a tree could have blue leaves, even in Narnia - and it was thin and slightly fuzzy. I turned it over. Underneath it was silver. To stand under this tree when it was fully grown would be . . . remarkable. The bark was thin and smooth for now. It felt like polished wood beneath my hand.

I stood holding a branch, lost in the feeling of contentment and safety this tiny tree somehow conveyed to me. It was like being with Aslan or held by my father or Peter's warm embrace when I climbed into his bed because I was cold. It was a sense of safety, of trust and belonging.

And suddenly I knew what I had been missing for years. Even before we stepped through the wardrobe I had been poisoned. Jadis had seen and exploited that weakness most cruelly, and her magic had stunted my ability to truly feel. Standing this close to the tree, touching it, seemed to drive that venom out of me for a moment. Thanks to my brother, her magic held no sway over me.

So lost was I in this revelation, this unbelievable freedom to feel, that I didn't see the elderly birch until she was upon me. Smiling, she bent one of the branches down slightly for me to see

"Majesty, look!"

On the end of the branch were a few small flowers, surprisingly plain for so beautiful a tree but remarkable sweet-smelling.

"It's blooming," I breathed, so amazed as to state the obvious. I had thought I would have to wait until the next harvest. I was never so happy to be wrong.

"It will have fruit before the morn," she promised, gently releasing the branch.

"Remarkable," I whispered.

"Fortunate are we to be called upon by Aslan to nurture and raise this gift," she replied.

I smiled up at her. "I know exactly how you feel, Lady."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

My next order of business was the Horse I had let borrow my brother. Celer escorted me to where a series of tents had been set up for the Centaurs and he opened the window on the leeward side so that I could see. I stood on my toes to see a shadowy form lying still and content.

"I'll fetch him some water," I said, knowing he always woke up thirsty.

"Majesty," said Celer, halting me, "I will fetch some water. Do you go see to your friend."

"Thank you, Captain," I replied, touched by his offer and well aware (as was Celer) that in my present state I'd end up wearing most of the water anyway.

I entered the dusky tent. It smelt of sweet hay and horse. There was a bed of straw piled up and Phillip lay upon it, fast asleep. He was in better shape than Peter, that was a certainty, though he was thin and battered and there was a half-healed cut across his nose. I just stood and looked at him, much as I had with Peter, and I silently thanked Aslan that my friend was safely returned. When I stepped closer I saw he had more hurts and scrapes than I had first noticed and I wondered what story they told. I felt my shoulders slump in sympathy and a tightness gripped my throat. Like Peter, he had given his all for _me_. How did you ever thank a person for such a magnificent sacrifice?

Celer returned with a bucket of water and with a smile he set it on the ground beside me before withdrawing. I cast him a grateful look, then sat in the hay in front of Phillip, wrapping my cape around me for warmth. I should have brought him some honey oat cakes. They were his favorite indulgence. Well, once we were back at Cair Paravel I'd make it my duty to see that he overindulged.

The bedding was soft and comfortable, the tent was warm, my body was aching and exhausted, and I nodded off within minutes. I woke later when I was nudged by a soft, whiskery nose.

"Phillip?" I asked hoarsely, blinking blearily at him as I sat up. The Horse was awake and far more alert than I and he looked extremely pleased to see me. I rubbed my eyes then let out a loud sneeze, scattering bits of hay from my hair, and he chuckled. He nudged me with his nose again and let out a happy sigh.

"Edmund," he said softly, laying his head on my should and pressing his cheek against the side of my head, a Horse's hug. He almost knocked me over into the hay with his affection and I was glad for it. I rose to my knees and wrapped my arms around his neck, reveling in the smell and feel of my best friend in all of Narnia. I pressed him close, listening to his long breaths and assuring myself, as I had with Peter, that he really was here and alive. I held him for a long time, until my arms started to grow tired and I could finally trust myself not to get teary eyed.

"Thank Aslan for you," he finally said, his voice betraying his anxiety. "I have been so worried."

I smiled instead of crying. "I just said the same thing about you." I drew back, looking at him closely. "Are you hurt?"

"Not badly. Really." He shifted uncomfortably, seemingly embarrassed by something.

"Phillip?"

"My tail is broken," he finally admitted.

I blinked. "That sounds . . . awkward?" I suggested, feeling rather awkward myself.

He shook his mane. "You have no idea."

"No, I don't. Lucy can fix that when she gets here. Did Peter behave?"

For a moment he considered. "Mostly."

"I'm surprised that much." I combed his forelock with my fingers, something I only dared do when we were alone since Horses considered it gauche to petted. Luckily Phillip cared less for equine etiquette than indulging my very Human impulse to touch a beloved friend. "Oh, Phillip, I've missed you!" I sniffed.

"And I you, my king. Are you well? How have you fared? You're very pale and you look thin."

I smiled wanly. "I . . . have not had a very easy time of late."

"Tell me."

"No." I swallowed, trying not to let memory spoil the joy of this reunion. "Not now. I did what Peter asked and survived. My tale can wait. I'd much rather hear about you and your adventures. Was it very horrible?"

"Sometimes. There were moments of fear and desperation and - ugh!" He shuddered. "Mostly it was enjoyable. Mountains and the most fantastic creatures - Giants and Seelie and Krakens! We met Winged Horses! Winged Horses, Edmund! They were guarding the Garden in the West!"

"What?" I breathed, gaping at him. There hadn't been Winged Horses in Narnia for hundreds of years. They were practically mythological. "Really?"

"Your brother rode one! Her name was Rhye and she was . . . she was as adorable as she was beautiful. We saw . . . Oh, we saw the most wonderful things!"

"What was the most wonderful?" I asked eagerly, hunkering down for this tale of marvels.

He looked at me, his weariness and relief a reflection of my own.

"You," he finally said.


	26. Slow Burn

**Slow Burn**

"King Edmund? Your pardon, Sire," said a Naiad. She stood dripping in the entrance of the tent. "General Oreius asks that you join him immediately. He's with your brother."

I glanced beyond her and realized it was very late in the afternoon and barely light out. Phillip and I had been talking all this while. I scrambled to my feet and dusted off bits of hay.

"I'll let you know how he is," I promised the Horse. "Get some rest."

"And you, my king," he returned.

I hurried through the camp to our pavilion and the moment I entered I knew everything was wrong. Peter was struggling weakly against Felern in delirious panic and Oreius was trying to keep my brother from hurting himself even more.

"Quickly, Edmund," ordered Oreius, and I wouldn't realize until much later that he used no title to address me, a true indicator of his distress. "We must calm him down. He doesn't believe you're alive."

Oh, Peter. I pushed past Felern and took my brother's face in both hands, making him look at me. He was sweaty and his eyes were lost and frightened, like a little child, but as he focused on me he stilled. His breath was coming in great pants and clearly he was in a world of pain and confusion. I had never seen him like this and it scared me as much as any nightmare I had envisioned these past months.

"Shhh," I whispered to him. "Easy, Peter. It's Edmund. I'm right here. See? I'm right here. I won't leave you. You're stuck with me forever, you poor fellow. Shhh. Shhh." I smoothed his hair away from his face. He stared at me, his breathing gradually slowing. He was limp and exhausted, but he had calmed down. With a quiet sob he leaned against me and I held him tightly, slowly rocking him, terrified at how thin and frail he felt in my arms. He had no strength to fight this infection and I had so little strength of my own to give him.

"Slide over," I said, giving him a nudge. Still holding him, I sat on the bed. Felern obligingly yanked off my boots and removed my cape, and I climbed in with Peter. He rested heavily against me and I welcomed his weight, wishing he was heavier. It struck me that sharing a bedroom (and very often a bed) with Peter was what I had missed the most all these months. Felern gestured at a cup in his hands and I looked at Peter.

"Are you thirsty?" I asked, and he nodded. "Lift your head and drink a little."

He managed a few sips before he put his head down and we watched as he gradually fell asleep. I held him warm and close, heartbreak and fear replacing the joy of reunion.

"Oreius," I said quietly, "please ask Aslan to come here. I need to speak to him."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I almost fell asleep waiting for Aslan. I had not had a proper sleep in days and despite my enthusiasm about getting here I really hadn't been in any condition to ride so far. My chest still ached, though nowhere near as badly as a week ago, and it occurred to me that I hadn't eaten in ages. When Aslan entered the tent, I just sat up slightly, unwilling to disturb Peter now that he was peacefully sleeping. Oreius waited outside, gesturing for Felern to join him. He knew that what I had to say was not for anyone's ears but Aslan's.

"Aslan, he's not good."

He looked away from Peter and at me. "I know, dear child. I know."

"Is there anything you can do?"

"Yes," he said in a voice both deep and steady. "I'm doing it. I'm waiting for your sisters to arrive with the cordial."

I sighed. That was not the answer I wanted. I gnawed on my chapped lip, thinking hard. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Like me, you can wait."

_Not so calmly_, I thought. Peter muttered in his sleep and I stroked his hair until he settled down again.

"But . . ." A thought struck me. "Would an apple from the Tree of Protection restore him?"

"It would. Not as quickly as the cordial, but just as completely. But Edmund, there is only one apple growing and it's meant for you."

I pressed my folded hands to my lips, thinking hard, choosing my words with care, trying to convey my absolute certainty. "Aslan, I am a knight of Narnia. The motto of my order is _Sacrifice._ If you _and_ Jadis have taught me anything at all, it's _that_ virtue. I am Sir Edmund How," I said, using the condensed form of the title Peter had bestowed on me, "and there is nothing I would not do or give for my brother the High King."

Aslan stared long and hard, though not so hard that I had to look away. He was searching for something in me and evidentially he found it, because finally he nodded. "So be it, Sir Edmund."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"You're an idiot!" I whispered tightly, trying - and failing - to stay mad at Peter for his steadfast refusal to eat the apple. Why did he have to be slightly lucid right now? Why couldn't he have just said yes? Of course after he recovered the guilt would do him in, but the Tree would bloom again and bear more fruit. I could have waited. This was Peter at his stubborn best and I leaned over and kissed him on the temple rather than strangle him. He was burning hot beneath my lips and I could not help but think of Jadis and her burning cold kiss. I banished the thought. She did not deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as my brother, let alone the same thought.

Peter smiled and settled deeper into the bedding, pulling me closer and wrapping himself around me. "Lucky for you."

He was asleep almost instantly and I was helpless before him. Not even _I_ could stay mad at him when he was like this. After a little while I shifted slightly so I could see him better by the faint lamp light. He barely looked like my brother. I tired circling his wrist with my fingers and they touched.

"Oh, Peter," I whispered, curling his hand in mine and holding it to my chest, a silent prayer rising in my thoughts. His broken arm was neatly padded and splinted and his flesh was hot and swollen from the infection caused by the break. I had never broken a bone, but it just _looked_ painful.

I stayed there all night, dozing now and then. He vomited once and I could do nothing but steady him as he was sick. When a dream gripped him and he struggled against some night demon, I held him and soothed his fears. I could only imagine what adventures he and Phillip had gone through, what fears and glory and laughter. He rested his fevered head on my chest, mumbling in his sleep.

"Shh, Peter," I whispered. "You're all right. You're home and I'm right here."

"Ed?" he gasped, lifting his head. He looked at me without seeing, confused.

"Right here," I said reassuringly. He wasn't really awake, I could tell. "I'm right here. You're back in Narnia." Felern hurried over with more herbal tea for the fever. "I need you to drink this."

"No," he snapped petulantly, sounding like a four-year-old. He put his head back down before the harassed Dwarf could say a word. Well. So much for that. I suppressed a laugh and took the damp cloth from Felern's hand to wipe the sweat from Peter's face, then lifted his broken arm so the healer could put another pillow beneath it to keep it elevated.

"How is he, Felern?"

The Dwarf's blue eyes were filled with worry. "No better. He's dehydrated and this fever is rising."

"My sisters are on their way. Lucy's cordial will set him aright."

"Pray Aslan they get here soon then, my king."

His tone frightened me. "Please go check and see if there's been any word on the queens." Susan and Lucy must be exhausted by now, having ridden through the night like I had, but from a greater distance away from the Lantern Waste. I should have just brought Lucy with me. I should have -

"Right away, Sire."

I jumped, startled, but Peter didn't stir and I barely noticed Felern's exit, concentrating instead on my brother. His skin was flushed and terribly hot and his long hair was sweaty. I wiped his face and neck again, unintentionally rousing him from his stupor.

"Edmund?" he whispered in a voice that broke my heart.

"I'm right here, Peter."

"I was . . . so worried . . ."

"I know. I was worried for you. We've both had a rough time of it."

"The spell?"

"I haven't been stabbed since you planted the tree. This is the fourth night since then. Or maybe the fifth. I don't know. I just know I'm so happy to see you back."

"You saved me," he whispered, clearly eager to share this bit of his quest. "And your knife. In the valley. Against the Host of the Air. I remembered how you fight. And I fought like you . . ."

I had no idea of what he was going on about, but it sounded as if Peter had finally taken a page out of my book. "Low and dirty?" I asked, thrilled. I would have given anything to see that. Now why couldn't I have dreamed of that instead of being shackled in an ice dungeon?

He slowly smiled, his voice raspy and weak as he gently teased me. "I thought you preferred 'underhanded.'"

"Whatever works," I replied. I lifted the cup of tea Felern had left. I recognized the smell. "You need to drink this."

He made a face and I made one right back and reluctantly he drank a mouthful. Immediately he acted as if he had just been poisoned, swallowing with effort.

"What _is_ that?"

"Disgusting," I said, an authority since I had drunk gallons of the stuff for the last two months. "It's for nausea."

"It worked," he gasped.

Oh, no, not again. He clawed his way to the edge of the bed and I could only steady him as he vomited bile. I climbed out of the hammock and fetched him some water to rinse his mouth out, crouching beside him as he spit the water into the basin on the ground.

"Your aim is improving."

He flopped down onto the pillows with a groan, shivering with sudden cold despite the fact that he was burning up. "If only my headache would, too."

I leaned over and kissed his cheek, wishing this night would end.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

It was well past midnight and I sat up in the hammock with Peter's head on my lap, Aslan lying close beside me. Unconsciously I rocked back and forth to the slow rhythm of the Lion's long breaths, lulling myself into a stupor. I was almost asleep where I sat, worn out and not quite recovered from anything that had befallen me of late, be it physical or emotional. I knew I had eaten at one point but I couldn't remember when or what, just Oreius putting a bowl of something in my hands and ordering me to eat. Peter breathed in shuddering gasps, shivers gripping him on occasion. He was so wane, his lips chapped and bluish, looking more sunken than when I arrived. He had not roused since the last time we spoke. I stared at him in the faint lamp light and suddenly I couldn't bear it any longer. Nothing was worth watching my brother slip away. Not even if he condemned my decision.

I may not win, but I would not lose either. Not Peter. Not to Jadis.

"Aslan?" I croaked, everything I owned aching with pain and emotion. Tears slid down my cheeks but I didn't care.

He looked up, waiting for me to continue. Just like my brother before me, I was at the end of my endurance and Aslan knew it.

"Please fetch the apple."

For a moment I thought he might refuse. Then he rose in all his majesty. He stood gazing at me, his eyes full of understanding, and he leaned over and kissed me gently, his huge forehead pressed to mine in a moment of communion.

"As you wish, my son."

_Thank you . . ._

He left, leaving me with my brother and my anguished thoughts. My fatigue and anxiety overwhelmed me and I bent far over, cradling Peter as I broke down into tears. Months ago Aslan had gently reminded me that even though I was a king I was still a child and I was _not_ Peter. He was right. I wasn't. This was not a time for nobility, but necessity, and if I had borne Jadis this long I could and would go on bearing her presence until the tree had fruit again. I had to bear it. Anything was better than life without Peter. Indeed, I didn't think there _could_ be life without him. He had destroyed himself for my sake. I tried to rise above the feeling of hopelessness but only succeeded in sinking lower.

And then . . . horns. Long and sweet, the notes announced word of Narnia's queens. I gasped, raising my head, wondering if I had dreamed the sound. No, it came again. And again. I didn't know how far they were from here, but it wouldn't be long before Susan and Lucy reached us and both of Narnia's kings would be delivered. Voices, excited and anxious, rose up and the Dogs started barking. I just sat there weakly crying, relief replacing grief in a glorious and devastating rush, flooding through me and my prayers.

_Thank you . . ._


	27. Patience is Bitter

**Patience is Bitter, but Its Fruit is Sweet**

"PETER!"

Lucy's shrill, shrieking voice cut through my sleep with all the keenness of Shafelm. I snapped awake with a vicious hiss and almost tumbled out of bed. I had no memory of having gone to bed and I most certainly did _not_ want to be woken by a scream, be it of pleasure or otherwise. I was alone in the tent and it sounded as if Peter was being accosted outside. Why on earth was he _up_, let alone awake? Not all of us had the luxury of being able to sleep for the better part of a week, thank you, brother dear. Lucy had been dropping in her tracks last night. _How_ was she awake?

With a long, loud groan I sat up, listening to the happy reunion going on without regard for the godless hour and formerly sleeping kings. Susan had joined the festivities by now. I dragged myself upright, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders as I staggered outside into the cold morning. Peter, smiling, healed, upright for the first time in days, was being supported by Oreius as he hugged our sisters. They were all talking at once and I growled something not even I could understand, getting their attention.

"The sun's not even up!" I complained loudly. "Why are you? Why am I?"

Why _was_ I up? I didn't need to be. Did I?

Susan paused, her blue eyes wide. Lucy's jaw dropped. I had no idea what possessed them, but they smiled up at Peter and he was grinning like an idiot.

The next thing I knew my three siblings tackled me from all sides, hugging and kissing me and each other until I thought I might burst trying to escape their clutches.

"Ew! Ow! Stop that! Stop that! Let go! Ew! No, Susan, do not kiss me again! Stop! Ew! Peter! Help!"

They were all laughing and ignoring my orders to stop until I was suddenly yanked against Peter. He wrapped his arms around me and just held me, his head bent next to mine. Lucy threw her arms around us both, then Susan, and we stood together in a knot with me in the center. It reminded me of Beruna and all the evil that had been done and undone that day, and I was as grateful then as now to feel so many arms holding me tight.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Breakfast was the next order of business because Peter and I were both famished beyond telling. The girls hurried back to their tent to get dressed and Peter and I did the same. Susan had brought what seemed to be about half of Peter's wardrobe. As he hunted for something that fit I rummaged in the few pieces I had brought along (for she had packed nothing of mine in her excitement). I noticed his boots lying on the floor by my hammock.

I think they had been blue once. Now, four months and a thousand or more miles later, the poor, tattered boots were little better than scraps of leather held together by some foolishly optimistic stitching. The soles were almost worn through and they stank so badly of sweat and mud and age that I wondered how I had missed their noxious presence before. They had to be among the nastiest things in all creation. I knew that my brother was so used to them he'd wear them without a thought unless stopped. I glanced back at Peter as he pulled on what I intended to be the first of many layers, and while he was busy fighting his clothes I rolled up the offending footwear before he caught some exotic disease from them and stuffed them into a pocket of my pack.

"Ed, do you see my boots anywhere?" he asked a few minutes later, hunting about.

"No," I said in all honesty, since the pack was stowed under my bed now. "Just wear shoes, Peter. I'm starving. Let's go eat."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"King Edmund the Just," said Aslan as everyone in the camp looked on. "It is for you to take the final steps of this journey. Pluck the apple from the tree and rid yourself of Jadis' corruption."

Flanked by my siblings, I could think of nothing to say in reply so I bowed to the Lion before stepping over to the tree once again. It had grown considerably overnight and the fruit weighed its branch down. Reaching up, I twisted slightly to break it free and stepped back a little.

I looked at the apple in my hand. It was round and had a silvery sheen like the leaves. It smelt like . . . summer. It seemed too pretty to eat, too small to combat Jadis' might, but this little fruit could do what Aslan could not. I cast one final look at my brother and sisters. They seemed so full of anxiety and anticipation that I smiled, trying to reassure them, and bit into the apple.

I had never tasted anything like this. It tasted like an apple, but . . . more. Much more. The flavor was deeper and more complex than any apple. It was like fine wine, changing from moment to moment. When I swallowed I gasped because suddenly I was seeing the world with new eyes. I saw Narnia, my family, Aslan, but I saw them as far more than what they had been before I took that first bite. Narnia was all that was best in creation. My family . . . they were the very meaning of love. Peter so brave and selfless and noble. He was the embodiment of heroism. Susan so lovely, graceful and caring. Lucy so daring and merry, innocence and courage. And Aslan...he shone brighter than the sun, dazzling and clear, infinite in his love and power.

What did this make me?

Peter started forward at my gasp, but I raised my hand and he halted. I took another bite and it was as wonderful as the first. I could feel it working upon me, my body and soul, cleansing and purifying me of the darkness that called itself Jadis. It spread through me like warmth, starting at my center and radiating outwards, its power making me worthy of the Narnia around me.

The colors were richer, the wisdom was deeper, and it seemed as if all of creation was celebrating the simple, glorious act of _being_.

And by eating the apple, I was finally part of it. Jadis, alien, corrupt, evil Jadis, had no place here. There was no fight, no last outraged attempt to claim me. The poison that was her blood was banished and wiped away as easily as sunrise banishes the night.

I ate slowly, not caring what anyone made of my reaction. My brother had sacrificed all for this and I would make it last. Each bite filled me more and more, drawing me closer to life. I had never known . . . had never imagined I could feel this way. I loved and was loved. I lived, and I was part of this, part of Narnia, part of Aslan in all his brilliance, boundless and grand. If I hadn't felt it for myself, I never would have believed it was possible. A veil had been lifted from my eyes and for the first time since arriving in Narnia, for the first time in my life, I truly _saw_.

I closed my eyes, clutching the apple core in my hand. The rush wasn't fading as much as it was balancing me, finding a middle ground for me to walk, and restoring this boy Edmund Pevensie to what he had somehow lost along his way.

I knew exactly what I would see when I opened my eyes.

I would see what had been there all along.

And oh, the wonder of it all!

I looked at Peter. He understood. I could see it in his eyes. He knew what I had just experienced.

_Then Peter will show you upon his return._

_Oh, Peter._

I saw Narnia as he saw it, as it really was, rich and vibrant and deep, full of love and hope and joy. It was a land blessed with Aslan's grace and finally I felt truly a part of it. The days past seemed so bleak next to what the future promised to hold for me.

It was thanks to Peter I stood here now. Finally, through all these trials and this suffering, I was capable of doing what he had asked.

And so I let go and forgave myself, letting him know by my smile that his quest was over and my promise was kept. I would not forget my past, but I would not let it stop or slow me.

Standing near Aslan, the elderly birch Dryad made an eager gesture and I realized what she wanted. I glanced at Aslan and he nodded, and so I handed the apple core to the Dryad. She carefully split it in two, exposing a pair of brown seeds within, and I knew those seeds would be cared for as tenderly as the Tree of Protection. The other Dryads crowed around her to see, all of them very excited and cooing with delight.

Then my sisters were hugging me and I was glad of it. They had never seemed so pretty. I looked past them to Peter and saw he was on the verge of tears. Typical Peter. that was fine. I felt exactly the same way. I let go of my sisters and stepped towards him.

"Oh, go ahead and cry, Peter," I said. "Get it out of your system!"

But instead he laughed, and I laughed with him.


	28. The Truth of What Is

**The Truth of What Is**

We broke camp and headed east before noon that day. At my nagging insistence Phillip released all the Dogs from their oath and I promptly threatened the lot of them with exile if they decided to get any ideas about carrying on the tradition of following the horses everywhere. My dear brother and sisters thought this was perhaps the funniest thing they'd ever heard. They could laugh. They hadn't been - quite literally - hounded for months on end.

We hadn't gone twelve feet when Peter and Phillip started singing some monotone equine chant and pretty soon the entire party was singing along with them. Despite the fact that I find that kind of song excruciating I joined in just to prove to Peter I really could sing. Oreius and I kept Peter between us as we rode behind Aslan and the girls, occasionally switching off with them so everyone had their turn to talk to him. Phillip occasionally mixed in with us and he was clearly possessive of both me _and_ Peter now. I had the feeling the other Horses would be wild with jealousy.

Walking next to Aslan, leading Jett as I stretched my sore legs, I found myself feeling strangely light and content. I supposed it was rather sad that I had never felt this way before, but at least I could appreciate the sensation now. For me, the world was newly painted, all my senses seemed heightened as never before. I was free of Jadis' blood, my brother was back and well, the Tree of Protection was thriving. It seemed a perfect end, somehow even better than our triumph at Beruna. I looked to the huge golden Lion beside me.

"Aslan? May I ask you something?"

He smiled as he padded along. "Of course."

"Before, as I was eating the apple . . . what did I see?"

I could tell by his expression that he was pleased with me and all I had done these past days and weeks. He gazed upon me and his smile never faded as he replied,

"You saw the truth of what is."

I frowned, turning his words over in my head, concentrating so hard that I never noticed I started lagging behind until Susan stopped her palfrey right beside me. Her voice was merry as she called,

"Wake up, Ed! You'll get stepped on!"

I blinked, coming out of my revery. Aslan was well ahead of me and I was just a few paces away from some highly amused Centaur lancers bunched up behind me as I daydreamed. "Huh? Oh! Thinking," I said, coming out of my distracted daze, feeling myself blush.

"It's not supposed to be so dangerous," teased Susan as I mounted Jett again.

"Sorry," I sheepishly apologized to the grinning Centaurs. I turned Jett and caught up with Susan. She smiled as she cast me a look from the corner of her eye.

"How do you feel?" she asked softly, and I knew she didn't just mean the deathless spell and all it had wrought.

"Complete," I replied. "Like I belong."

She reached over and laid her hand on my arm. "Edmund, you've always belonged!"

"Maybe. But at least now I feel as if I fit in."

With a nod she drew her hand back, understanding what I meant. I smiled to let her know all was well and she came back with that lovely, reassuring smile that filled our subjects with such content. For the first time I felt the power of that gentle expression and I knew all was right in the world. She was silent afterwards, knowing that I had a great deal to think about, but she stayed close. A little while later Lucy joined us, still clutching Celer's pipe. She made certain she had our full attention and began to play a simple tune he had taught her. We listened with delight as she picked out the notes. She really had improved quite a bit since the anniversary. When she was done we all clapped and the Centaurs cheered and Oreius called out a marching tune that set us all singing again.

That night a large fire was built and after supper we gathered around it. I stood behind where Peter sat on a low stool and happily tossed his nasty old boots into the blaze one after the other. I had tried to get Lucy to help with the scheme but she wouldn't touch the boots even with gloves on. Leather really won't ignite, but at least they smoldered and blackened nicely.

"Hey!" Peter exclaimed indignantly.

I pinned him in place with one hand on his shoulder, feeling smug at having saved his life. "Just watch them burn, Peter."

Finally he laughed and shook his head and began to tell us about the quest. Phillip, his tail healed by a drop of Lucy's cordial and his spirits high, stood close by and offered a less romantic and rather mother-henish account of his efforts to keep Peter from himself. It was all very fun even though some of the stories were terrifying, especially their description of the Slinn. I was eaten up with curiosity to ask what he had meant by the valley and the Host of the Air, but I knew he'd get to it in time.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Though it was almost dark and we normally would have halted to make camp, we were a mere three hours of steady riding away from Cair Paravel and we decided to press on. There was not a one of us that wanted to stop, not even the horses. This was the fourth night of our journey back and the weather had taken a downwards plunge. We were all freezing cold and weary, but there was not a word of complaint when we realized Peter had endured extremes like this for months without so much as a tent between him and the elements.

About two hours from the Cair I realized said brother had fallen unusually quiet and I gazed over at him in surprise. It was then that I saw he was falling asleep in the saddle. He swayed slightly and I leaned over to steady him, calling, "Oreius!"

The general trotted up, seemingly impervious to the biting cold.

"He's asleep," I said softly. "Can you carry him?"

A smile gentled the Centaur's angular features and he easily plucked Peter from Marsk's back. My brother looked so small cradled in Oreius' arms, and the Centaur's expression reminded me of the Dryads exclaiming over the apple seeds. It was as if he was looking at a baby. Peter never stirred and Susan sent for a blanket to keep him warm. Watching Oreius, seeing the tender devotion and love he bore my brother, I resolved in that instant to make him a knight. It was the least I could do for the remarkable dash he had made all the way to Caldron Pool and beyond.

The Cair was well lit for our return but I sent Bats ahead to warn them that Peter was asleep and I'd like him to stay that way. Silent, grinning soldiers of all kinds lined the road, all of them carrying torches and lanterns to light our way to the palace. There was a huge, quiet crowd waiting at the main entrance and everyone was delighted at the sight of their High King fast asleep in the general's arms and many a giggle was stifled. Peter remained asleep all the way up to our bedroom, rousing only when Oreius set him on his bed.

"Whu? Oh!" He groaned in embarrassment as he realized what had happened. Oreius chuckled and Peter scrambled to his feet. He was immediately waylaid by Silvo and Martil. The valets were in ecstasies over having him back and happily scurried about to ready a much-needed bath for him.

"Thank you, General," I said, seeing the Centaur to the door.

He smiled once again, laying his hand on my shoulder. "Thank you for asking me, King Edmund. And thank you for trusting me to find him."

I looked up into his earnest face and said with absolute honesty, "There's no one I trust more, Oreius."

An hour later Peter emerged clean, refreshed, and with short hair once again. Even cut his hair was blonder than it usually was in the winter. Susan actually whined at the loss of those dreadful, bleached locks and asked Silvo to save her some, which struck me as the height of silliness. Peter and Lucy didn't make it far past supper and Aslan laughed and sent them off to bed. Susan went to tuck them in and I sat with Aslan for a few moments.

"I'll be departing in the morning," he told me.

I nodded, sad to hear that but well aware that I had taken up a great deal of his time and attention. "Thank you, Aslan," I said softly. "Thank you for everything. I wouldn't have made it without you."

"You have carried yourself admirably through this ordeal. Remember all you have learned, Just King, and rejoice in your freedom."

"I will," I smiled. "Aslan?"

He looked at me expectantly.

"Will I ever be able to forget the Deplorable Word?"

"Sadly, no. Poison may be removed, but knowledge remains. You lack the desire to use it, Edmund. Even if you did manage to say it the effect would not be as wide spread as if Jadis had said it. Bury it deeply and do not dwell on it."

"She said it was a gift," I snorted.

He cocked his head. "It may well be someday."

"Are you foretelling the future?" I teased.

He growled in amusement, a low, deep sound that wasn't quite a purr. "The only certainty I can say for your future is that I will love you more each passing day."

I smiled, rising up from my seat and hugging him 'round the neck. "Thank you, Aslan. Even though it's been awful, I'm a better king and brother for it. Thank you . . . and . . . I love you. More than I can say."

His golden eyes shone with affection. "You have grown in many ways, Edmund. Continue on this path and you will achieve your greatest desire."

To be a judge. To be the voice of reason and wisdom and justice. To shield Narnia from dangers of every kind.

To _be_ King Edmund the Just.

"I shall," I promised.

He kissed me on the forehead. "I know. And now good night."

I bowed to Aslan a final time and entered the bedroom I shared with Peter. I stood watching him sleep, amazed at what he had done for me. Amazed at him.

"Ed?"

I smiled a bit at the drowsy voice. "Sorry to wake you."

"No," was his mumbled reply. He shifted, waking up a bit more. "Are you cold?"

"I could be if you'd like," I said, unable to keep from grinning.

He let out a mighty yawn. "I'd like."

"Shove over, Peter, I'm freezing," I ordered, already kicking off my slippers.

He happily shifted over in the bed and lifted the covers. It was wonderfully warm as I crawled in with him and Peter wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. His slow, steady breaths were like music to my ears.

"Peter?"

"Hmm?"

I reached up and took his thin hand in mine, trying to express what I felt. "Thank you."

He pressed his lips to my hair, letting me know he understood and that he loved me as completely as I loved him. "I'd do it again."

I sighed, remembering when Aslan had used almost the exact same words. "Yes, I was afraid you'd say something like that."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Ed? Ed! It's all right. Wake up. It's all right. I'm right here. I'm right here."

I woke with a gasp, trembling and tearful, clinging desperately to my brother. My dreams and thoughts scattered as I roused out of a troubled sleep. Peter lay on his back, holding me carefully and speaking in that soothing tone that always set the world aright again. Even when I had been at my very worst he never lost patience with me or refused to offer me all the comfort he was able. He had been Magnificent even then.

I raised my head, blinking at him in the moonlight. "Peter?" I whispered, not certain of what I wanted or needed beyond his presence.

"I'm right here," he promised, pulling me closer and covering me warmly.

"I know," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion.

His voice was as soft and gentle as the hand that brushed the hair from my eyes. "You had an awful time of it, didn't you?"

That simple question overcame all my weakened defenses. There was no way I could begin to answer with mere words. I lowered my head and I let my relief and worry and loneliness and joy pour out. He held me while I cried, never telling me to shush or stop, just a whispered, "Oh, Ed," as he let me vent my pent-up feelings. I think he may have cried as well. Probably. This was Peter, after all. It felt so good, so right to have him back. How had I survived so long without him?

"Edmund?" he whispered much, much later, when finally my tears had dried up and my breathing was back under control.

"Hmm?"

"I'll make a pact with you right now. I will tell you every single thing that happened on this quest if you'll tell me everything that happened to you while I was gone."

"Everything?" I wondered dubiously.

He nodded. "Good and bad. Every last detail."

There seemed so much more of the bad than the good, and the darkness that had imprisoned me seemed so much worse than anything he may have encountered. I knew what he was doing. He was offering me a chance to talk. It wasn't confession. It was discussion. He would not judge me any more than I would judge him. He just knew I needed to say some things aloud and he was giving me an opening.

"We can do it at night, when we're alone. No one else will ever know."

My head still resting on his chest, I nodded. He hugged me tight and kissed my hair.

"Good. Now go to sleep. I'm right here and I love you."

I slept.


	29. Kiss and Tell

**Kiss and Tell**

I woke up to Peter once again taking his life in his hands by vigorously shaking me awake. I lifted my head with a savage hiss, but Peter just smiled at me and ignored the warning signals, smacking me in the head with a pillow and saying something about training. Training? Was he quite mad? Or was this revenge for all the crow jokes I'd made last night?

"Come on, Ed!" begged Peter, tugging at the blankets. "I've been dying to get down there again!"

And what was so wrong with sleep? I snorted, clinging to the covers. "I nearly _did_ die down there. Peter, Oreius hid my armor and Shafelm so I couldn't try anything stupid like this until he said so."

"What?" Peter smiled with delight at the notion. I supposed he felt he didn't need permission to do stupid things. He jumped on the bed and landed partially on me. "Why?"

"Wait! Wait!" I held up a hand and he stilled. "You just traveled for months on end to places unknown for . . . what was the reason you went on that quest?"

He laughed. It was like music to my ears even though I dropped back down into the covers with a dramatic groan. "Come on! Take my old armor! It'll fit you!"

"Fine!" I growled to shut him up, clambering out of bed. I whipped the nearest pillow at him before getting dressed in many layers and my heaviest cape. We snuck through the corridors as usual, bidding the guards good morn. They grinned to see us back to our regular routine. It was freezing cold outside and by the time we reached the armory I was shivering and hating every moment of this scheme. Inside surrounded by stone and metal wasn't much warmer and I watched my breath curing white before me with growing apprehension. Peter was so thin I doubted he'd be able to stand more than five minutes in full armor and I wasn't in much better condition. Still, it would be fun to watch.

We were trying to locate Peter's old suit of mail in the storage chests lining the walls of the main room when the door opened and we heard slow hoof beats approaching. That could mean only one thing. I looked at Peter with a sigh, knowing we were sunk. He just smiled back, not having the sense to feel guilty or realize this was one of those battles that couldn't be won. Not at our present ages, anyway. We might have a slim chance in ten years or so.

A moment later the general of our army stepped into the room, his torso dressed warmly, a long cape covering his flanks. I had the feeling our antics had roused him. He must have given orders to be alerted if Peter . . . all right, if_ we_ tried anything like this. The fact that he anticipated it at all spoke volumes about how well he knew the pair of us. Oreius frowned, knowing full well what we were about, but nonetheless asking, "What are you knights doing down here at this hour?"

Seeing as how it was Peter's idea, I let him field the question.

"Well, we . . . were going to train," said Peter, though it sounded to me a lot more like a question than a statement of fact. I decided it was worth getting up and risking pneumonia to see this moment.

"Really? I think not," said the Centaur as he moved into the chamber, filling it with his sheer size and presence. Folding his arms, he leaned over and looked me sternly in the eye and I knew how a mouse felt before a snake. "You'll resume training when I say so, Sir Edmund of the How, and even so not one moment before you gain fifteen pounds."

_"What?"_ I howled, and Peter barked a laugh and clapped a guilty hand over his mouth. Oreius swept his gaze over at my brother.

"Don't laugh, Sir Peter Wolfsbane. _You_ have to gain twenty."

Peter's jaw dropped in stunned astonishment and it was my turn to laugh. I tried to stifle the sound with indifferent success.

"I suggest you two get to work."

"But . . ."

He walked out without another word, leaving us staring after him. We looked at each other and as if on cue we both burst into laughter.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

We met the girls for breakfast and set about following Oreius' orders with good appetite. The palace chefs happily outdid themselves now that they had two bottomless pits to feed again. It would be days before Peter and I were up to doing anything as far as our lessons were concerned and the girls happily delayed their own classes to linger over breakfast.

Peter broke the news that Aslan had departed and taken the White Witch's wand far away. Lucy pouted a moment or two until Susan reminded her Aslan had stayed with us for more than four months and he had duties beyond Narnia. I was sorry he had left but glad that I'd spoken to him last night and that Peter had gotten a chance to talk with him alone. Besides, we always had Lion Chapel. That was Lucy's to tell Peter about, but I had a surprise of my own for him.

"Peter! I have something to show you." I smiled at the puzzled looks cast my way and I couldn't help keep the smugness out of my voice as I said, "I wrote a decree."

My sisters beamed and Peter exclaimed, "Did you? Smashing, Ed! Smashing! How?" he wondered, thoroughly impressed.

"It was a lot of work, but I think you'll agree it was worth it. Martil? Could you please ask Minovin for the official copy of the _Codex_? She should have it handy."

While we waited, I explained the research and writing involved. Peter listened with interest, sorry that he had missed Parliament. Minutes later Martil returned with the scroll in question and I handed it off to Peter, saying,

"I was faced by some petty noble's ambassador asking for Susan's hand. Chap didn't even have the decency to show up himself to ask and . . . well, I got annoyed. This will help remedy any repetitions." I gestured grandly at my work. "The _Codex Consors_, brother."

Peter listened with growing delight, then unrolled the scroll and started reading. I watched his expression closely. His eyes grew as huge as his smile and he almost cheered toward the end.

"Brilliant!" he cried, looking up. "Edmund, this is pure genius!"

"Rumor has it," I said softly in reply, extremely pleased by his reaction.

He rose and paced the room, reading it again. A small whoop escaped him and Susan started laughing out loud. When he came back to me he set the parchment down, seized my face in both hands and kissed me. I let out a yelp that turned into a whine of disgust.

"Peee-ter!"

Lucy cheered and clapped her hands as I tried (not very hard) to twist away and escape. He swiftly kissed me again and finally released me. I rubbed at my mouth and face with my sleeve and cast a wide variety of dirty looks at Peter. Better equipped than I was to get away with such conduct, he completely ignored me and the noises I was making as he called out,

"Martil, please fetch my seal!"

"Peter, you don't have to ratify it," Susan protested as my valet darted out again. "It's already approved and enacted."

"I don't care," he said happily. He tapped the thick parchment. "I want _my_ seal on _this_ decree."

Lucy giggled at his insistence and I found myself laughing as well, watching with pleasure as Peter melted a mound of red wax onto the bottom of the decree next to three more red seals, then happily smashed his large, golden seal onto it.

"Aslan," he said, laughing and looking to the east, "thank you for giving me an easily aggravated, clever, and wise brother to write such a masterpiece that truly will undo many a dream of grandeur." He read it again, clearly enjoying every word. "Oh, I wish I'd had a copy of this when that Terbinthian duchess-in-waiting came here! That's it!" He sat up straight. "As soon as we know what these visitors and ambassadors are about, we'll send them a copy of this and have some chamberlain read it aloud so there's no misunderstanding."

We all roared. Peter dropped back into his seat. "You know you're going to be hated for this, Ed."

"May as well be hanged for a wolf as a sheep," I replied. "I've made up my mind, Peter. I'm going to become a judge."

He sobered instantly, gazing at me with pride and approval. For a long moment he was silent, and then with deep emotion he said, "Good!"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

After breakfast I returned the copy of the _Codex Consors_ - now an even weightier document than before with Peter's seal upon it - to Minovin. Lucy walked with me as far as the library then hurried to her music lesson. I watched her skip down the hall, calling out gaily to guards and ladies and courtiers alike, and I was struck by the sheer bravery she possessed. Even at Beruna she had not flinched at the blood and gore and she had never once shied away from helping me all these months. She didn't see her service to me as duty to a king or her brother. It was simply the right thing to do and I realized I had learned a great deal from her since the anniversary party.

I returned the decree to the court recorder and she delighted at seeing Peter's seal on it. I left Minovin to gloat and I made my way back to the royal quarters. I was very surprised to hear Susan in our bedroom and I stopped as her voice reached my ears.

". . . nightmares grew worse and worse since before Stormfall. Aslan said Jadis' blood grew more powerful as he became weaker."

"Weaker?" wondered Peter.

"Oh, Peter, he hasn't been eating or sleeping and when he did it was no help. The cordial wasn't made to fight magical wounds. He's been in agony for months."

I bit my lip. I couldn't walk in there now. I didn't want to hear this, either. It had been my intent to tell Peter myself, but throughout this ordeal I hadn't been the only one suffering. Susan had been an absolute brick, just like Lucy, but she needed to talk and Peter was the only one she could turn to in this situation. That I could appreciate.

"Months?" Peter was horrified, more so than he should have been, or so it seemed. He let out a gasping sob and I heard him drop onto the bed. Why was he reacting so strongly?

"The first day of Twirleaf," he began haltingly. "I was . . . her name was Lasa. The Lake King's Daughter."

"She pulled you into the water," breathed Susan. "You almost drowned."

Surprise cut through his guilt. "What? How did you . . .?"

"Edmund dreamed it. We were at Kellsalter and he . . . he knew you were in danger."

His voice broke. "Susan, I was in that lake for almost a month. A _month!_ I . . . it took me that long to remember the quest and Aslan and who I was and . . . and . . ."

_Oh, Peter._

"Don't," said Susan. "Peter, don't blame yourself for what was done to you. This . . . Lasa captured you. Edmund won't blame you. Not for a moment. Don't feel guilty. Please. It's over. He's free. You're home. Oh, Peter . . ."

I closed my eyes against my own tears, pressing my fist to my mouth at the sound of his quiet sobs. I knew Susan would comfort him. I could hear her softly crooning to him as I silently withdrew. I retreated to my own unused bedroom, sitting on the floor with my back to the door, drawing my knees in close. Something Susan had said struck a chord deep inside me, and she brought more comfort than she knew.

_. . . don't blame yourself for what was done to you._

It was simple wisdom, not a cure by any means but a lesson I could easily live with and apply. I folded my arms across my knees and rested my head, letting the tears fall. Jadis had said everything that had happened to me, everything she'd done, had been my fault from the start. I had believed her lies.

No more. What she had done - to Narnia, to Aslan, to _me_ - was obscene.

_. . . don't blame yourself for what was done to you._

_Thank you, sister._

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

We got absolutely nothing accomplished that day. When we attended to our royal duties there really wasn't any business on the schedule. Instead Narnians by the score found any excuse to crowd into the throne room while we were in council just to see and greet Peter and make certain I was still among the living. I suspected that unless a war broke out we could look forward to the same thing every day for the next month or so.

Afterwards we all followed Lucy down to Lion Chapel. Susan and I hung back and let Lucy show him the sanctuary. Peter reacted just as we had, with awe, and Lucy was so delighted she jumped and clapped. Peter slowly moved through the unfinished room, his eyes blazing with reverence as he spotted the tapestry of Aslan that Lucy and I had found. His voice was almost choked as he said,

"Lucy . . . this is perfect."

Peter looked down at his feet, at the beautiful silk rug from the Tisroc, then up at the golden, Dwarf-made lamp hanging from the vaulted ceiling. By the expression on his face I knew where he would be whenever I couldn't find him henceforth. The serenity of the place suited him.

Lucy hugged him firmly. "We're having tapestries made," she said, "and you'll have to pose for yours. Edmund's friend at the Blue River Smithy is making us a candelabrum to match the one we found in here. It's going to be so beautiful! And it's just for us, Peter, us and Aslan. No one else is allowed in without permission."

"I'm so glad, Lu," he replied softly, his smile never fading. He bent and kissed the top of her head. "I'm so glad."

He spoke for us all.


	30. Epilogue: In the Company of Horses

**Epilogue: In the Company of Horses**

That night, and every night for months on end, Peter and I started talking.

Seated on my bed, huddled close and wrapped in blankets, I told Peter about that first day without him, my fear and loneliness, how Kanell drove me so I would not dwell on his departure, how drained the day had left me. He told me of his anxiety over me, how he stayed up until midnight almost nightly, how lonely and empty the world seemed past Narnia's borders.

As time went on, I learned about Lasa and the Kraken and King Frank and I finally heard all the thrilling details of his conflict with the Host of the Air. Peter learned about Ilando and Mrs. Tibs and Jadis and about the dreams that tried so very hard to kill me and the storm that nearly did. We discovered how our dreams had bound us across the distance between us and that Aslan had answered our desperate prayers. There were many tears shed by both of us. Tears, yes, but not a moment's shame in them or the comfort we gave each other. And at the end we understood exactly how much we meant to each other and how much each was willing to sacrifice for the other.

In a word, everything.

I didn't keep my end of our pact. Not entirely. I didn't tell him all the details. I couldn't. I did tell him about the Deplorable Word. The mere memory of Jadis whispering it to me left me nearly unconscious, with burst eardrums and a horrible nosebleed that frightened Peter out of his wits. He was afraid to mention Jadis for days afterwards and it fell to me to bring the subject up again. I made certain to relay everything Aslan had told me about the word, especially the facts that I would never be able to forget it and that no matter what, it would wreck havoc if ever said aloud. Henceforth the use of the word 'deplorable' was heavily frowned upon in our court at Cair Paravel.

I told him about the dreams but . . . I left some finer details out and he knew it. Not even Aslan knew about all the nightmares. There were issues I wasn't prepared to face yet. I knew my brother had his suspicions, and I'm sure his suspicions were absolutely correct. As I had said to Brickit, Peter is no fool. I just wasn't prepared to talk about _everything _Jadis had done to me. Some of the things were simply too twisted to dwell on. I suspected I wouldn't understand it all myself for years to come or perhaps never. He didn't press me, but I knew he would listen when I was ready to talk.

Still, we talked, gasping and laughing at each other's adventures, growing closer and getting to know each other better than we ever imagined. It helped strengthen us and through us, Narnia. I don't think either of us at first had realized exactly how much we needed to come to terms with. Of course we still argued and teased each other, and I never grew tired of crow jokes. I don't think Peter did, either.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

With less than two weeks to go before the second anniversary of Beruna everything was extremely busy at Cair Paravel. Peter had escaped to Clearwater Creek to settle a very minor border dispute with Archenland that centered on, of all ridiculously silly things, strawberries. The fact that he went at all was evidence to how completely Susan had annoyed him with all her nagging worries over the upcoming celebrations. Neither Peter nor I could quite comprehend the fuss generated over a few feasts and parties. The complainants in the strawberry issue hardly needed Peter there, but he bolted out of Cair Paravel as if the place was on fire. I would have gone with him, very gladly, too, and for exactly the same reason, save that I had to spend some time at Kellsalter. The Dwarf engineers had learned about my friendship with the Blue River Dwarfs and essentially did not want to be shown up by their obnoxious Black cousins. Whenever they needed a crowned head, I was their first choice and they made sure to mention every visit to Brickit until I forbid them to annoy him that way. I was not at their beck and call and I hardly wanted my friend's nose out of joint, but they begged me most urgently to come and when Susan started talking about decorations I was glad to go.

I took Phillip and Yoli and Valons with me to Kellsalter the day Peter fled south. Kanell didn't even ask for leave to accompany us, he just joined my little party as we set out from the stables, ostensibly to act as my bodyguard. I suspected his wife might be in league with Susan and he, too, was keen to get away.

It was a beautiful summer day and we took our time, talking all the while. The sun was hot, the breeze off the ocean smelt of salt, and despite the frenzy of planning going on in Cair Paravel I was perfectly happy. Indeed, I could have gone on all day.

Half a mile from the planned port we spotted a Red Dwarf, one of the engineers, waiting on the trail with two of the Otters that lived nearby.

"Your majesty!"

The Dwarf bowed, sweeping off his hood. The Otters likewise bowed and one of them giggled, looking up at me quickly and squirming. I dismounted to greet them.

"Aslan stand between you and evil," I said in the traditional Dwarf greeting. "I'm glad to see you, cousins. I trust all is well?"

The Dwarf, Mitterwig, seemed very amused. "Things are more than well, King Edmund, but . . . there is something that we feel requires your attention."

"Lead on, good Mitterwig," I replied, not certain of what to make of the situation but willing to indulge his humor. We walked along and I waited until we were almost at Kellsalter before I asked, "So what is it that requires my presence?"

"Not so much a what as a who, your majesty," said the Dwarf and the two Otters, youngsters both, hummed in agreement. The smaller of the two giggled every time she looked my way and almost tripped over herself when she caught my eye and I smiled at her.

The sound of more voices and construction reached our ears as we came up to the natural harbor chosen for Narnia's first port. I took in the stunning view below - the cliffs, the ocean, the deep forest reaching all the way to the edge of the sand - with great pleasure and satisfaction. A pier was being constructed and several temporary buildings were already up along the water's edge. Ultimately the whole place would be made of stone and fortified.

I heard a distant, echoing neigh and Phillip's ears perked up sharply. I glanced at him, wondering if he recognized the voice.

"And now who requires my presence, sir?" I asked.

Mitterwig grinned and pointed to the beach below. "Yon filly from afar, good my king."

I gasped, a noise echoed by everyone in my party, and I fell back a step.

A Winged Horse almost the same color as the pale gold sand raced along in the surf, laughing at the Seagulls keeping pace with her. She had huge, silver wings and her shrill voice echoed joyfully off the cliffs as she leaped and pranced about as happy and energetic as a foal. We stood in speechless awe, and then I breathed,

"Rhye!"

It could only be she.

Phillip had never looked so thrilled. He let out a mighty whinny, then shouted, "Rhye!"

She stopped short, her legs splayed and her tail high, looking around and finally up. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"Phillip!" she squealed in absolute delight, spotting our small party far above on the ledge. I didn't even know Horses could squeal like that. Without hesitation she started running and launched herself into the air with a wild cry. We watched in absolute amazement. Wings sweeping through the air, she rose up on the wind, charging straight for us. Alarmed shouts erupted from every throat as we scattered in all directions. Rhye landed right where we had been standing, her mighty wings and sheer momentum sending up a cloud of dust and sand.

"Phillip! Phillip Bwinny-hra! It's me! It's me! It's Rhye!"

She was so excited that she turned a full circle, almost dancing in her eagerness. Phillip laughed and recovered, going up to meet her nose-to-nose.

"Rhye! Aslan's blessing upon you! Welcome to Narnia, daughter of Pennon!"

"You made it back!" she exclaimed. "How is Peter High King? How are you? You have a different saddle! I met Dwarfs! And Otters! Oh, what are you?" she asked, spotting the rest of us. She gaped at Kanell, so huge and dark. "You're a Centaur! Oh, Phillip, now I've met a Centaur as well! What are you? You're very pretty," she said to Valons. "Oh! A long-legged Otter! With spots!"

Yoli looked stunned, terrified, and scandalized simultaneously. The Otters giggled and collapsed into a heap.

Then Rhye turned to me, and her wonder only seemed to grow and she stared, standing still for the first time. "You . . . you're his Edmund. You're his brother! He came west for you." She ducked her head to me. "I must thank you, my king. If you had not been cursed, I never would have met Peter High King and learned a song or come to Narnia."

I almost cried aloud at her notion of logic, seeing as how it had been so hellish upon me and Peter alike. Still, there was something so disarming and appealing about her that it was impossible not to feel joy at every word she said. "Yes, but . . . how did you know it was I?" I asked, daring to reach out and touch her soft nose.

She laughed and even before I heard her reply I found myself laughing along with her. Peter was right, she was absolutely charming and her enthusiasm was infectious. "He said you were much alike, save that you were night to his day."

A very Peter-ish reply. He had far more poetry in his soul than I did and in truth we barely looked alike. He favored our father and I was undoubtedly my mother's child. I laid my hand on the mare's smooth neck. "I have to thank you, Lady. If you hadn't brought Peter to the Garden, I wouldn't be alive right now."

Phillip shifted uncomfortably. Rhye's eyes grew wide. "I was going to say it was nothing, King Edmund, but I see that it was far more than that. I am glad to have served you and your brother."

"Be welcome in Narnia, Lady Rhye," I said, "for now and always."

"Peter said I should come. Where is Cair Paravel? I was following the river but then I smelt grass like I've never met before and then I saw this ocean and I've lost my way, though the Dwarfs have been very kind."

I smiled. "You're not far from it."

"May I go with you to see Peter?"

"He's not at the Cair right now. He's gone south, but he'll be back in a few days and . . ."

I trailed off, an idea forming in my mind. If we could keep her arrival quiet for now, we could surprise Peter like nothing else at the anniversary celebration. It had not been an easy spring and he needed cheering. Rhye, lovely Rhye, might be just the thing.

"Rhye," I finally said, "would you like to be a surprise for Peter?"

"Surprise?" echoed Rhye, excited anew. "How do I be a surprise?"

I wanted to say, "Just keep breathing," but I suspected that would only confuse her. I looked at my companions. Each and every one wore a grin that matched my own and I knew they were with me.

"First of all, we can't let Peter find out that you're here for a few days yet."

"I'll hide! I'll be quiet!"

"And I'll send some grooms to brush your mane and tail and clean your coat."

"Peter promised I could have shoes of silver and gold!"

"You'll get them, but I'll let Peter give them to you. So you'll help me?"

She nodded, thrilled. I couldn't take it any longer and with a happy laugh I threw my arms around her neck, hugging her tightly.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Peter was satisfyingly breathless as he watched the Winged Horse move through the crush of revelers. "I can't believe she came!" he cried, positively aglow with pleasure. He was so excited that he didn't seem to know what to do with himself and he wasn't bothered in the least that we were all friendly with Rhye by now.

I snorted. I knew whose company he was going to be keeping on the morrow. I didn't mind. It would be worth dealing with ambassadors and well-wishers all day to let him have some fun. He had not looked so happy in quite a long while, but that was a tale for another time. "I can't believe we managed to keep it from you."

Lucy swayed to the music, her smile never fading as she reached up and straightened my crown of green wheat and grass. "She's as wonderful as you said, Peter, and she loves music! I taught her some new songs!"

"Lucy!" I frowned at her. Hadn't she learned a lesson on the ride back from the Lantern Waste last Yule? I could only pray she didn't like those awful, monotone equine chants, too. "Never burden a Horse with a song!"

"Unless she asks!" countered our youngest queen.

Amidst our laughter Peter seized Susan's hand and lead her onto the floor as the music for a springbok, a very spirited dance that involves far too much skipping, struck up. One voluntary dance a year was enough for me and I had already used it up on Susan and the Centaurs, but Lucy has an iron grip when she wants and there was no escape. It wasn't so bad, especially when about twenty of Neth's Naiad sisters joined. Despite myself I blessed our dance teacher because I neither tread on any toes nor lost step once. By the end of the dance we were soaked through from the dripping wet daughters of the River God and the slick floor made the skipping bits very interesting.

I couldn't help but feel antsy as midnight crept upon us and the feel steadily grew to fear bordering on panic as the minutes passed. A year ago tonight Jadis had felled me with the deathless spell and I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she had something else, something equally nasty in store for me. Granted her blood had been expelled from my body, the memories of the curse were shockingly vivid even a year later.

Standing next to Peter, I looked down at the happy crowd of our subjects. Rhye was surrounded by Horses and even a few Unicorns, for Flisk had arrived and brought his six older brothers. I saw Tumnus doting on Lucy, Sir Giles whispering something in Marion's ear that made her giggle, Oreius standing beside his great-uncle Cheroom as we waited for him to announce the second anniversary of Beruna. They were happy. Even Peter. I looked up at my brother and saw that the last shadow had finally left his face and he was as content as our good cousins. I breathed a sigh of relief for him, wishing the next five minutes to be over for me.

A Faun brought us the heavy wooden mazers we had left on the stairs. With a smile he poured red wine into the ancient bowls as everyone prepared for Susan's toast. She lifted her own smaller mazer and called out,

"Narnia, tonight we celebrate victory and freedom and the lives of our two kings. Drink a toast with me now! Narnia, Aslan, and our Magnificent and Just kings who banished the White Witch from our land forever!"

Oh, no. I felt the blush creep up my cheeks as the crowd erupted into cheers. I snorted faintly and Peter looked down at me.

"I didn't do anything," I muttered.

He chuckled. "I beg to differ."

I rolled my eyes and together we drank long and deep to Narnia and Aslan and each other. Just then Cheroom gave a shout from his station by the water clock, his deep voice booming across the hall.

"Midnight! To freedom!"

The assembly went wild with delight. The drummers beat their instruments and all around the great hall Narnia celebrated the end of tyranny by dancing and shouting and toasting. I stood on the stairs frozen in place, a deep fear keeping me from moving or even looking away from Peter. I waited, waited for the agony to arch through my body as Jadis punched her broken wand through my sternum and out my spine. Waited to lose all sensation but the hideous sucking feel of the jagged crystal being yanked out again. Waited to fall, dying. I stared up at my brother and I knew, just knew, that he was anxious for the same thing.

Moments passed.

Nothing happened.

No pain, no gasping for air, no searing numbness robbing my legs of their strength. It was like the night Peter had planted the Tree of Protection.

Praise be to Aslan, nothing happened.

Peter blinked, then glanced at the hall. I suddenly realized it was deathly silent. Following his gaze, I realized every eye was focused on us kings. I smiled weakly at the crowd, suddenly breathless, and when I looked at Peter again there were tears in his eyes and he was smiling so beautifully that I threw my arms around him and kissed his cheek, knocking off the woven crown I wore. Catching the band before it fell, he held me so tightly I couldn't breathe and I didn't care in the least. Our subjects let out a tremendous cheer and dancing and music erupted all around us. I pulled back to look at Peter just as Susan and Lucy came up the stairs at a run, hand in hand. I met them a few steps down with hugs and kisses, holding them close as they both cried right along with me.

Nothing had happened.

Nothing, except I had not lost.


End file.
